


Unknown Heroes

by Animula97



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts First Year, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-02-11 10:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 33,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12933546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Animula97/pseuds/Animula97
Summary: The Dark Lord is dead and gone, but his heirs remain and things aren't going to be easy for them. Especially Sage Black who insists on doing everything her own way. After 12 years of being trapped in her family's ways, she is finally being given the chance to break free and burn her own path through life. But as she and her brother grow older, Sage begins to realise that maybe the path she wishes to follow so desperately isn't the path she should follow as she is faced with the ultimate choice; does she fight for blood or for mind?





	1. 970 Days After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, so this is my first publication to AO3 and I thought, hey what better way to get started than a long-haul Harry Potter story? This is a story which has been in the works for a long time and it's only now I've felt confident enough to sit and write it all out. Updates will be every Wednesday and I plan to follow the characters all the way through their seven years at Hogwarts. As you probably realised in the summary, this story does focus on an original character with many more being introduced along the way. Please don't let this put you off and give the story a go as it includes all of the favourites too! As I said before, this is going to be a long story and I hope you will all stick with me until the end, but for now, sit back and enjoy!

****970 Days After** **

We stop in front of a painting and I struggle to believe what I’m seeing. It’s an oil painting of seven figures of varying ages, from a man in his mid-twenties to a boy just a few years shy of ten. Each of their faces are focused away from the painter, either looking at one another or at an object too far out of frame. They are dressed in old fashioned robes and dresses, making them each appear elegant, yet small imperfections in their dress hint at a rebellious nature. My gaze drifts away from the faces and the clothes and the near identical designs on the pendant around the oldest girl’s neck and the pocket watch held by the older man and down to the bottom left corner where an unintelligible signature has been placed.

“It was donated by a gentleman a few years ago following his death.” I overhear a nearby audio tour guide inform the group of tourists who had stopped just behind us. “The artist remains unknown, but critics have praised the skill and emotional undertones which burden this painting.”

I can’t bear to hear the rest. Instead I step forwards and brush my hand across the face of the dark haired, dark eyed young man with the barest hint of a crooked grin.

An attendant rushes over to ask me not to touch the painting as ‘it dates back to the early 19th century’. I nearly smile. The painting is less than ten years old and there is little chance that anything less than a nuclear bomb could destroy it.

A gentle hand presses against the small of my back. I lean into the growingly familiar touch.

“You ok?” The owner of the hand asks.

“I painted this,” I say, my voice is barely above a whisper. I turn back to look at him. His eyes draw together slightly in confusion, an open yet unspoken invitation for me to speak to him.

My eyes are once more drawn to the painting and to the seven faces of the people it has immortalised. It would be so easy to shake my head and to persuade him that it was time to move on to the next piece of art. He would let me persuade him. He wouldn’t push me. He wouldn’t make me talk to him. I had an easy way out, an easy excuse to continue not talking.

“They were my friends,” I say. “We thought that we would change the world. That we were untouchable. That because we thought that what we did was right, it was the right thing to do. The best thing to do. We were wrong. More wrong than I ever thought you could be. And because we were wrong we lost.”


	2. 2,255 Days Remaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, so here it is at long last: the first full length chapter of Unknown Heroes! Thank you to everyone who viewed the prologue oh such a long time ago (sorry Christmas was busy. NEVER let anyone you know get married just after Christmas unless you want to be rushed off your feet!) and I hope this chapter lives up to any expectations, or exceeds them, maybe? (Crosses fingers). Anyway, sit back and enjoy!

It was nerve-wracking; standing in the middle of the Great Hall, surrounded by other first year students, waiting for our names to be read. I hadn’t expected to be as nervous as I was. All I could think was that I had to be different, that I didn’t belong where they wanted me to and that Lyam had to be right. I wanted him to be.

“Abbott, Hannah,” was the first name to be called out. I knew it wouldn’t be long until it was my turn, the curse of having a name so early in the register. Abbott didn’t sit on the stool long before moving off to go to the cheering Hufflepuff table.

The next name made my stomach turn.

“Black, Sage.”

The entire Hall seemed to go silent. My cousin, Draco, next to me nudged my arm for encouragement as I started to move. Across the hall I caught the eye of Caleb, who smirked and raised an eyebrow. It was a warning to not mess this up. On the Hufflepuff table, only Celia had moved her attention from the new first year and focused on me. She smiled as I passed her and let her fingers brush against my arm. I started to wonder if the hall was as quiet as I thought, many of the students seemed to be whispering to one another as I sat on the stool, not that I could hear anything over the loud thumping in my head.

Professor McGonagall placed the hat on my head, letting it fall past my eyes, blocking my vision of the Hall. Caleb had told me all about the Sorting Hat last year, so I was prepared for the voice which began whispering in my ear. It seemed to mutter for an age, barely loud enough for me to hear. I only caught the odd word and comment as the Hat searched my mind.

Finally, it spoke loud enough for me to respond. “You would grow well in Slytherin,” it said.

“You’re wrong,” I whispered.

The Hat chuckled. “Am I? You’re ambitious and cunning. Loyal to those in your circle and yet anyone else you would leave to fend for themselves. Not forgetting that pride. You’re proud of your heritage and proud of your achievements. All of these are worthy traits which Salazar Slytherin would have appreciated.”

I clenched my fists at my sides, and counted to five in an attempt to stop my temper. “So you spend Merlin knows how long in my head and the only thing you could come up with is that I’m cunning and proud?”

The Hat chuckled again. “What else do you think you are?”

I didn’t have an answer to that. Special. That’s what Lyam always said. That I was special. Not that it mattered here. I thought sulkily.

“Would it not be easier to just let me place you in Slytherin?” asked the Hat. “Then you could be with your brother and make your family proud. You would succeed in Slytherin, that’s for sure. They would push you, you know. They would encourage you and stand by you. Slytherin protects their own.”

“But what if I don’t agree?” I asked. “Purebloods protect their own too, until you change your opinion or want to be different. I want to be great and respected and I don’t care too much how I get those things. But I don’t want to be traditional. I don’t want to get married and have children and play housewife and other Pureblood things. I don’t want to be Slytherin.”

The Hat was quiet for a few seconds and I just about managed to make out voices from the rest of the hall. How long had I been sat there? Had it been too long? I decided I didn’t care. I didn’t want to be in Slytherin and I was stubborn enough to argue for hours with the Hat if it meant I got what I wanted.

“You would make a wonderful Slytherin, and with a mind like yours there really is no other place to put you other than GRYFFINDOR,” the Sorting Hat roared the last word and I was left speechless as Professor McGonagall lifted the Hat off my head. The table on the far right erupted into cheers and I headed over to it, taking a seat and avoiding the glares coming from my brother and cousin.

Many of the Gryffindor students introduced themselves as I sat down, a few names I recognised like Weasley and McLaggen, but most were unfamiliar. Muggle-Borns then, I decided. Or Half-Bloods who didn’t realise who my family were. A few of the older students seemed to be sending glares my way but I ignored them, instead turning my attention to the sorting ceremony in time to watch a second girl join the Hufflepuff table. It didn’t take long for Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst to become the first male and female Ravenclaws.

They were followed by Lavender Brown who joined me at Gryffindor, grinning wildly. She offered me her hand and introduced herself. I did the same, beginning to relax a little at finally recognising a name in my new house that my family would somewhat tolerate. We chatted for a bit and commented as the next few students were sorted (Millicent Bulstrode became the first Slytherin, Michael Corner joined Ravenclaw, Vincent Crabbe, a boy I knew well through Draco, was also sent to Slytherin and Justin Finch-Fletchley became the third Hufflehuff). Seamus Finnigan was the first boy sorted into Gryffindor and he approached the table with an even wider grin than Brown had. Again, we introduced ourselves. I was so distracted by our conversation that I only looked back to the front of the Great Hall when I realised that it had been quiet for too long.

A girl I didn’t recognise was sat on the stool and, like it had me, the Hat covered her eyes along with most of her face. All I could truly see of her was wild, bushy hair that seemed to point in every direction. I didn’t envy the girl. My hair could be just as bad during the summer if it got too humid. Around the Hall people had started to mutter again and I caught the phrase ‘hatstall’. It didn’t take long for me to figure out that the older students were shocked by the possibility of there being a second hatstall. I was slightly confused by what they meant. No-one had seemed to stand out. It wasn’t until I became aware of the glances being sneakily sent my way. If this girl was about to become the second hatstall of the year, I realised that I was the first.

I sunk down into my seat a little, embarrassed that my Sorting had been in some way noteworthy. However, I barely had a chance to sulk before the Sorting Hat was yelling Gryffindor once more, loudly enough to drown out the mutterings. The bushy haired girl looked relieved as she bounded towards the Gryffindor table and settled in the seat across from me. A faint blush had crept up her cheeks. Despite her flushed state, she excitedly greeted everyone who spoke to her and promptly introduced herself. She spoke so fast that I had to bite down a giggle. Muggle-Borns, they got so over-excited at such silly things.

Abruptly, the girl turned to me and held out her hand. “I’m Hermione Granger,” she said, matter of factly.

I forced a pleasant and sweet smile to my face. “Sage Black. You’re a Muggle-Born, then?”

The blush on Granger’s face deepens. “Yes, is it that obvious?” she asked. I noticed her smile faltered slightly, but stayed in place none-the-less. She was trying too hard.

“No, not really. I just didn’t recognise your name is all,” I half-lied smoothly. “I’m Pureblood, so I recognise nearly every family name here. As long as they’re Pure or Half-Blood, that is.”

Curiosity quickly overshadowed any self-doubt Granger seemed to be feeling as she opened her mouth to ask me another question. We were both shushed by an older student before she could. We shared a look and I returned my attention, once again, to the Sorting Ceremony. There was now sat a small looking boy with shaking hands and, from what I could see of him, a slightly plump frame. I frowned. He looked vaguely familiar but I couldn’t place him.

For the third time that night, the older students were nudging one another, and talking about hatstalls. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Granger looking at me questioningly. At first, I tried my hardest to ignore her, but eventually turned back to face her.

“What’s a hatstall?” she mouthed to me. My mouth tightened slightly in irritation and I clenched my fist at my side. I shrugged my shoulders. I didn’t know and the shocked and somewhat disappointed look Granger was giving me made my stomach clench.

Scientia potential est. Knowledge is power. Lyam had told me that. I hated not knowing things. Aunt Cissa said it was because I was nosy. In truth, I didn’t like being at a disadvantage. My brother, Caleb, was already a year ahead of me at school and boasted all the things he knew that I didn’t whenever the chance arose. I hated the idea of being powerless and if knowledge was the key to being powerful then it was pretty important to me.

Eventually the Sorting Hat placed the boy in Gryffindor and the table I was sat at burst into cheers once more. The boy nervously stumbled over to an empty seat next to Granger and stuttered his way through introductions.

Neville Longbottom. My mouth dropped slightly and my blood ran cold when I heard his name. Longbottom glanced over to me nervously every other second. I offered a small, tight smile before pointedly forcing my attention towards the Slytherin table. Caleb was shaking with laughter and smirked when he noticed me watching.

“Malfoy, Draco,” called Professor McGonagall and both mine and Caleb’s attention snapped to our younger cousin.

I watched as Draco took his place on the stool, a hardly noticeable smirk had settled on his face, nearly perfectly mirroring the one Uncle Lucius wore when surrounded by those he knew he was better than. I held my breath as the Hat was placed on his head and almost instantly cried out Slytherin. Draco’s smirk broke into a full blown grin for a second before he caught himself. I couldn’t help the tight knot of disappointment in my stomach from worsening. It wasn’t a surprise, but it would have been nice to have at least one truly familiar face in my house.

Lily Moon was sorted into Hufflepuff with the hat barely brushing her head. The next two students, Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson, also joined Slytherin. Padma Patil went to Ravenclaw and her twin sister, Pavarti Patil, joined me at the Gryffindor table. Sally-Anne Perks joined Hufflepuff.

There were now only four boys and one girl left waiting to be sorted. I recognised two of them. The ginger one was obviously a Weasley and bore a resemblance to the twins who had been amongst the first to introduce themselves when I sat down. The second was Blaise Zabini, the only son of a wealthy Ministry colleague Uncle Lucius got along well with. We had been introduced a number of times, however I had spent most of the time with his three sisters, leaving my cousin, brother and Blaise to amuse themselves.

The other two boys both were dark haired but that was where the similarities came to an abrupt end. Whereas one was somewhat tall with a longish neck I assumed he would eventually grow into, the other was short and seemed to almost curl in on himself, as if trying to make himself invisible. The shorter of the two was also shockingly pale. Even more so than me, I imagined. It was an almost sickly pale colour of someone who had spent very little time out of doors rather than a naturally pale complexion. The taller boy was as dark-skinned as the shorter was pale and both seemed to be clinging to every word the Weasley boy whispered.

Muggle-Borns, I assumed.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat to quiet the Great Hall which had slowly become more and more noisy as new students took their seats.

“Potter, Harry.”

Gasps and loud, excited whispered spread through the Hall faster than I thought possible. My own eyes widen in shock as I watched the smaller of the two dark haired boys slowly make his way to the stool. The already tight knot in my stomach was slowly becoming unbearable. I shouldn’t be there. Not with Longbottom and now Potter there, too. And to top it off both would be in my year. The whispering died down as Potter remained sat on the stool. Every house seemed to be holding their breath, begging the Fates that Potter would be sorted into the same house as them. After what could have been hours of silence the Sorting Hat eventually cried out its choice.

“GRYFFINDOR.”

The Gryffindors broke out into deafening roars. The Weasley twins were shouting ‘We got Potter’ and I was convinced that I saw a couple of the older girls crying. Nearly all of the older Gryffindor students were standing and scrambling to greet Potter as he attempted to take his seat. I, on the other hand, shrunk further down into myself, suddenly feeling extremely sick. I couldn’t even look at Potter. The shouting and cheering seemed to take longer to die down than Potter’s sorting took. It wasn’t until a few well-timed fireworks cast from Professor Dumbledore’s wand that the Gryffindor table finally settled and the Sorting could resume.

I tried my very hardest to keep my attention on the Sorting and not on my rising terror at the idea of being in the same house as Potter and Longbottom. I missed the girl’s Sorting and was barely aware when Dean Thomas and Ronald Weasley joined the Gryffindor table and could only muster the slightest of enthusiasm when Zabini was sorted into Slytherin, taking a seat near to Draco, Crabbe and Goyle. I breathed a sigh of relief that the Sorting was finally over and thought of my bed. Caleb and I had been up most of the previous night celebrating my birthday. I was exhausted.

At the front of the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall removed the Sorting Hat and made her way around the staff table to her seat on the right of Professor Dumbledore who immediately rose to his feet, spreading his arms in welcome to Hogwarts’ students. “Welcome!” he said, beaming.

“Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!”

I rolled my eyes as I joined the rest of the Hall in cheering and clapping our headmaster as he sat back down. As the cheering stopped it was replaced by loud chatter as older students caught up with old friends and the first years attempted to make new ones. It was nothing like meal times at home, I noted, adding newly appeared food to my plate. At home, there were manners to worry about and having to wait for this person to eat and that person to sit down and always maintaining the correct dinner table volume. I smiled slightly at the more relaxed nature of the Gryffindor table.

“How do they do that?” asked Granger.

“The food is made downstairs in the kitchen and then magic moves it from the kitchens to our tables,” I replied, trying a bite of roast beef; it was surprisingly good.

Granger looked amazed at the idea.

I giggled. “Are you really going to make that face at everything?”

She ducked her head to hide her red face. “Sorry, I just – This is all.” Granger looked up around the Hall again, her attention moved from the ceiling, to the other tables, the food and then finally back to me. “Things are a little different here compared to back home.” Granger smiled, but couldn’t quiet hide the wobble of her bottom lip.

I was shocked. I hadn’t meant to make her cry. I frantically scrambled to find some words of comfort for her. “You’ll get used to it?”

“Yeah,” Granger relied as she pushed around the peas on her plate.

Annoyed at my failure I chanced a look over at the Hufflepuff table. Celia was looking my way and grinned when our eyes met. I watched as she said something to the girl next to her before standing up and heading towards me. As she made her way over, a few students stared in disbelief.

“So, Gryffindor?” she asked.

I pointedly focused on my food. “So it seems.”

From the corner of my eye, I watched Celia as she tried her best to hold back a smile. Sighing I turned to face her. Before I could stop it from happening I was pulled into a hug.

“I’m so happy for you, Sage,” whispered Celia.

I relaxed into the hug, still feeling slightly awkward for showing affection in front of so many people but was determined to ignore their presence. Unsurprisingly, it was me who ended the hug.

We chatted for a few minutes and I allowed Celia to steal food from my plate. It had been nearly two weeks since we had last seen each other and Celia was determined to learn every detail about my birthday. What presents I had been given, who had come to visit that morning and why I was so against having cake. I reluctantly told her a few details, aware that Granger was listening to most of our conversation. When I looked over, she turned her head from me trying to feign innocence.

“Granger, you should meet Celia,” I said.

Granger’s head whipped round to face us, a mixture of shock and excitement dominating her expression.

“She’s a third year Hufflepuff student. We’ve been friends for years.”

Celia smiled kindly whilst offering her hand to the bushy haired Gryffindor. “Celia Carrow, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” “Hermione Granger.”

The two briefly shook hands before Celia turned back to me.

“I nearly forgot to ask you,” she said. “Since you’re a first year then you won’t have much work to do on Saturday, right?”

I shrugged, once again turning back to my food.

Celia rolled her eyes. “You shouldn’t have. Anyway I was wondering if you fancied a tour of the castle? That way you’ll know where all of your classes are.”

“I’ll already have had a week of lessons by then so I will already know where they are,” I replied.

“Well then I can show you everything else,” Celia argued. “Come on, Sage, you don’t have to act like this here.”

I turn to glare at her. “Fine, if it will make you happy.”

The only response Celia gave me was a light laugh and a smile as she left. “See you Saturday.”

“Um, Sage?” asked a small voice.

My glare turned to Granger. She was being too personal so I didn’t bother reigning in my annoyance. “What?”

“Thank you for introducing me to your friend,” she said hurriedly, before starting a conversation with the Weasley Prefect next to her.

The knot in my stomach tightened again, making me regret eating so much food. Around me, everyone else had cleared their plates. The remaining food vanished and I sighed in relief only to bite back a groan when the plates were refilled with puddings. I felt sick just looking at it all. I glanced longingly at the Slytherin table, hoping that maybe Caleb or Draco would look as miserable as I felt. They didn’t.

Caleb was joking with his group of friends occasionally talking to the first years or older students that he knew. Similarly, Draco had settled into a conversation with Crabbe and Goyle with Zabini occasionally joining in. All four first year boys would also talk to some of the older students they knew from Solstice parties. I wanted to be on the Slytherin table. Nearly everyone seated on it was someone I had some connection with. Some the son or daughter of a friend of my Aunt or a colleague of my Uncle’s. Some friends or acquaintances Caleb made last year. Some I was probably even related to. If I was on the Slytherin table, I would have belonged with them.

I jumped slightly when the rest of the first years laughed. They’re probably all friends already. I wasn’t used to people that weren’t introduced to me by my Aunt or Uncle. That wasn’t the way things worked at home. You were friends with the people you grew up with; siblings, cousins if your parents were close. The odd friendship might be struck and maintained during the Solstice parties when we were left together to amuse ourselves, but more often than not it was just a night of fun with people you wouldn’t see again for another six months. The few of us who went to Woodcreek got along well but mostly saw little of each other outside of school unless parental approval was given.

The first years laughed again, they were talking about how they learnt about magic or, in the case of those raised as wizards, their first cases of accidental magic. Granger was still talking to the Weasley prefect, engrossed in the topic of our subjects and what she would be learning. I wondered idly why she wasn’t put in Ravenclaw over Gryffindor. Shaking my head, I decided I didn’t really care. It wasn’t until Potter joined their conversation that I took a little more notice.

“Who’s that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?” Potter asked Weasley.

I snuck a glance at the dark haired, hook-nosed teacher. Severus Snape. Uncle Lucius had mentioned him, praising the head of Slytherin house for his skill as a Potionmaster, we had even met at some point through Lyam – they were distantly related, I couldn’t remember how, exactly.

“Everyone knows he’s after Quirrell’s job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape,” Percy said.

Potter nodded, somewhat distracted, rubbing at the scar concealed by his too-long fringe. The conversation was forgotten when Granger picked up her relentless questioning again, this time asking after the Professors who would be teaching us. I ignored them, instead I pushed food round my plate, trying to persuade myself to finish the lemon meringue pie piled in front of me.

Not long after, the dishes of desserts cleared themselves in the same way as the main course had earlier. I breathed a sigh of relief, looking forward to crawling into bed. The relief was short lived, however, as Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet once again.

“Ahem – just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.” At this point, not only Professor Dumbledore’s but also every other staff members’ eye seemed to turn towards the Weasley twins who had fixed looks of innocence on their faces.

Professor Dumbledore continued, “I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

There were a few scattered laughs from students but for the most part Professor Dumbledore’s announcement was greeted with a nervous silence.

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song,” said Professor Dumbledore. Using his wand, he conjured a gold ribbon which promptly looped itself into a line of words.

I bit back a groan, Caleb had warned me about this.

“Everyone pick their favourite tune,” said Dumbledore, “and off we go!”

Despite my misgivings I pick the tune of one of the lullabies Lyam used to sing when I was young and belted out the song with the rest of the school:

“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they’re bare and fill of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we’ve forgot,

Just do your best, we’ll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot.”

Unsurprisingly I was among some of the last groups to finish, and was left, along with the rest of the school cheering on the Weasley’s slow funeral melody conducted by Professor Dumbledore.

“Ah, music,” said Professor Dumbledore. “A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

Within seconds, prefects were scrambling to their feet in order to herd the first years into groups. The Weasley Prefect, whose name I finally learnt was Percy, was among the loudest prefects, calling the Gryffindor first years to follow him and ‘don’t lag behind, I don’t fancy wandering the castle to find you tonight’.

Granger and I met up at the end of the table where I plastered a smile on and grabbed her arm.

“You should come with us on Saturday,” I demanded.

Granger looked shocked and scared in equal measures as I proceeded to drag her along at the back of the pack of first year Gryffindors, lest we get left behind. “Um… What? Saturday?” she stammered.

I rolled my eyes, forgiving her momentary lack of brains due to her obvious food induced tiredness. “Yes, Saturday,” I replied. “I thought you heard. Celia offered to show me around the castle on Saturday. You should come.”

“Really?” Her eyes lit up.

“Of course. Isn’t that the type of thing people with the intentions of being friends do?”

Granger laughed but quickly stopped when she looked at me. “I’m not sure about what people with the intentions of being friends do, but it definitely sounds like something friends do,” she blushed suddenly. “At least, in the Muggle World it is.”

“Oh.” Heat rose up my neck, colouring my cheeks nearly as bright as Granger’s. “You really make friends like that?”

Granger laughed again, more quietly this time, before answering, “Yes. How do you make friends in the wizarding world?”

By approval. By mutual gain. By circumstance. By loneliness. Somehow, none of these answers seemed right. “I don’t know,” I said.

“Well in that case,” Granger stuck out her hand. “Let’s be friends?”

Taking the outstretched hand was easier than I thought it would be. “Friends.”

We both jumped at a loud noise above our heads.

“Do you want me to get the Bloody Baron?” demanded Percy Weasley. A strange looking ghost holding a bundle of walking sticks popped into existence in front of us. Granger squeaked in fear. I looked at her, didn’t they have poltergeists in the Muggle World?

“Oooooh!” said the poltergeist, grinning evilly as he looked over the group below him. “Ickle firsties! What fun!”

We were forced to duck as he plunged downwards suddenly, cackling madly.

Percy Weasley was the first to straighten up. His face was nearly as red as his hair as he began to threaten Peeves with the Bloody Baron again. Surprisingly this worked and Peeves sped off, but not before dropping his walking sticks on Longbottoms head. I nearly felt sorry for him. Up ahead Percy continued talking to Potter and his younger brother, whilst the rest of us followed in exhausted obedience.

It didn’t take long to arrive in front of a rather large portrait of a rather large lady dressed in a hideous pink dress, finished with frills and bows.

“Is that normal witch dress?” asked Granger.

I shushed her as Percy said the password, “Caput Draconis.”

In turn the portrait swung open revealing a hidden room through a rounded hole carved into the stone. There were runes etched into the brickwork which curved along the top. I couldn’t read them. Once we were all through the hole, Percy Weasley allowed very little time before directing us to our respective doors which would lead to our dormitories. Granger, Brown, Patil and I were led through the door on the right and up a winding wooden staircase by a female prefect who introduced herself as Carrie Austen. As we climbed we passed by a number of windows, all of which I peered out of. Each time I was disappointed by the swelling blackness outside brought on by the late hour. Eventually, Austen ushered us into a room with four beds, each one with a trunk next to it.

“This is your dorm. It will be tidied but try not to make too much of a mess. My dorm is on the floor just above you. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to come knocking,” she said. “Sleep well, girls.”

Austen shut the door firmly behind her, leaving the four of us to stare at each other, all a little lost. I looked down at the trunk nearest to me.

“This bed is yours,” I told Brown before moving onto the next.

Patil beat me to it though. “Hermione Granger?” she asked.

“That’s mine.”

I was next to Granger, between her bed and a large double window. Patil was the other side of the window, next to a second door which I guessed led to a bathroom. Brown was between the two doors. Once at our respective beds, it didn’t take long for use to change into our nightclothes and take turns to use the bathroom. I was the only one who refused to change in front of everyone else.

“You never did tell me if that was normal dress for a witch,” said Granger.

I rolled over in bed to face her. “Depends on the occasion,” I mumbled. I was tired and not particularly in the mood to explain what clothes are appropriate when to a Muggle-Born.

“What do you mean?” Granger persisted.

Brown hissed at us across the room to go to sleep.

I grinned regretfully at Granger before sitting up to pull the drapes around my bed closed.

Despite the strangeness of sharing a room with three strangers I fell asleep quicker than I could remember having ever done.


	3. 2,254 Days Remaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, here is this weeks update. Thank you to everyone who's reading this, it keeps me positive. Anyway, sit back, and enjoy!

I was the first to wake up. Despite falling asleep so quickly the night before I hadn’t slept well, having woken up nearly every hour, disturbed by someone rolling over, or snoring too loudly, or going to the bathroom. Sharing a room with Caleb had always been easy, even Draco on occasion; I trusted them. But three strangers? I wasn’t sure I could cope.

Ignoring the early hour, I made my way silently to the bathroom and headed straight for the shower. It frustrated me when I struggled with the unfamiliar controls and I nearly gave up when the water finally started but was freezing cold. Malfoy Manor didn’t have showers. It had large bathtubs, big enough to comfortably hold three adults, with faucets which would release different coloured and scented water and soap dispensers on the wall that never ran out. Despite my fears, I longed for the baths at Malfoy Manor.

Downstairs the common room was empty, not that I was surprised. What type of student wakes up before 5am, weekday or not? The type who sleeps lighter than is good for them apparently. It took me a couple of tries to get the fire going but once it was I settled on the worn red sofa in front of it. I spent a few minutes just watching the flames dance and grow before opening my sketchbook.

I flicked through to the first blank page and started drawing. I was so focused on lines and shapes and the beginnings of shading that I barely registered the changing light and the house-elf which briefly appeared to tend to the fading embers of the fire. It wasn’t until half six when Granger found me.

“Morning,” she said.

“Hmm.”

“You’re up early today.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Carrie said breakfast starts at 7 and that she’ll take us down as long as we’re ready for half past.”

“Uh-huh.”

Granger seemed to get the hint and didn’t say anything more. I had expected her to leave, but instead she opened a book to read. We sat in silence for around half an hour. I tilted my head at my sketchbook, scrutinising the drawings on the last few pages.

“They’re really good,” said Granger.

I nearly jumped, unprepared for the idea that someone would look at my work over my shoulder. I shook my head. “The proportions are all wrong,” I said. “And here, the shading got messed up because of the sunrise, I got confused and added too many shadows. Then the fireplace is completely the wrong shape-”

“It’s better than anything I could do,” Granger reassured me.

“Doesn’t make them any good though. What time is it?”

Granger checked her wristwatch. “Twenty past seven.”

I nodded, “Let me put these away and wash my hands then I’ll be back down.”

“Okay.”

The graphite I had used didn’t come off my hands easily and in the end I gave up on them in favour of not further annoying Austen who was banging on the door.

 

The Great Hall felt relatively empty compared to the previous night. It seemed not everyone had arrived yet. Austen left the four of us once again to join her own friends. Brown and Patil instantly rushed over to the first-year boys at the far end of the table. Granger and I, on the other hand, hung back.

“Should we?”

“I don’t really want to.”

“Thank God,” said Granger steering me towards an empty section of the Gryffindor table.

“God?” I asked once we were settled.

“You don’t know about God?” asked Granger, more shocked than I’d thought possible for someone like her.

I shook my head.

“What about Christianity? Judaism? Islam?”

I stared blankly, trying to keep any annoyance off my face. How could I have never heard of any of these words? Granger might as well have been speaking a different language for all the sense she was making.

“Didn’t you do R.E. at primary school?”

“Wizards and witches don’t go to primary school,” I said. “Most purebloods go to Woodcreek to learn writing, reading, maths and basic spell theory and those who can’t afford it are normally home tutored by their parents. What’s R.E.?”

Granger spent the majority of breakfast explaining to me the workings of Muggle primary school and religions. I hung onto every word she said, filing away the information for future use. It was fascinating to learn how Muggles thought the world came into existence. Questions like that weren’t often asked in the Wizarding World. It was generally accepted that the magic of the Fates created the world and would someday destroy it too. I told Granger this and she seemed shocked by the lack of interest. Muggles liked to question everything it seemed.

“But what’s the point?” I argued. “How does knowing that the world was created in six days effect the present?”

“History is important as we learn from our mistakes,” said Granger. “That’s what my year six teacher said once. And the world wasn’t actually created in six days, it was made because of the Big Bang.”

“The what?”

We were interrupted by Professor McGonagall handing out our timetables for the year. Granger I compared timetables instantly, and both breathed a sigh of relief to learn we were together for every lesson. We had Defence Against the Dark Arts first thing that morning with Professor Quirrell followed by Charms and Magical Theory before lunch and Herbology, History of Magic and Transfiguration after.

“We should go get our books,” suggested Granger.

 

Professor Quirrell was a disappointment. Despite his insistences that he had worked with vampires, curses and a number of other situations involving the Dark Arts I doubted him. He was a nervous man who looked over his shoulder far too many times and jumped at any loud noise. At one point a Hufflepuff had accidently dropped a book and Professor Quirrell had looked like he might bolt out the window in fear. Granger on the other hand was convinced that he was wonderful. I grudgingly agreed that he seemed to have a decent idea of what he was talking about.

The lesson was spent going over what we would be learning over the next year and some information about our upcoming O.W.Ls. Whereas the majority of us deflated at the idea of exams that were still five years away, the Ravenclaws and Granger dutifully continued taking notes. We were finally dismissed a little before the start of the next hour with directions as to how to get to Charms. I breathed in the fresh air, glad to be away from the disgusting garlic smell which lingered wherever Professor Quirrell went.

Charms was better. Professor Flitwick, Head of Ravenclaw, was as short as Caleb had made him out to be but not half as annoying. The lesson itself was nearly identical to Defence Against the Dark Arts, but unlike Professor Quirrell, Professor Flitwick gave us homework. He wanted us to write a short essay about ourselves, including our wands and what spells we were looking forward to learning.

Five minutes into Magical Theory and I already knew I would hate the subject and that it only existed for the benefit of Muggle-Borns and Half-Bloods. Like Professors Quirrell and Flitwick before her, Professor Babbling went over everything we would be learning over the next two years, explaining that Professor Wyatt would take our lessons twice a week and she every Monday. I paid little attention, instead I tried to catch Draco’s eye and when I did we shared a look of disbelief that we were going to be forced to relearn everything Woodcreek had already taught us. The other Slytherins seemingly shared the same opinion. Lunch couldn’t come soon enough.

Lunch itself was a rushed meal. The Great Hall was once again packed with students and teachers eating and talking. It was overwhelming and I quickly made my excuses to leave early. To my surprise, Granger insisted on tagging along. We took our selection of sandwiches and treats outside to the grounds where we found an empty spot in the sun to eat. We weren’t the only ones. Groups of older students had settled spread across the grounds. Despite my prompting to return to our breakfast conversation, Granger stubbornly steered the conversation onto the subject of our morning lessons and the homework we had received. I explained to her the uselessness that was Magical Theory. Granger listened, however I got the impression that I hadn’t changed her opinion on the subject in the slightest as she insisted that there would be something new in the lessons that I couldn’t possibly already know.

As it turned out, by spending lunch out on the grounds, Granger and I were the first at the Herbology greenhouses. Professor Sprout approached Greenhouse 1 soon after we arrived and greeted us with a wide smile. She was easily the nicest teacher of the day. Once the rest of the first-years arrived Professor Sprout introduced herself and the subject of Herbology. I instantly decided that it was unlikely to become a favourite subject of mine. I wasn’t particularly interested in plants. I knew which flowers I could pick from Aunt Cissa’s garden and which not to, but beyond that I had little desire to learn more. I spent the majority of the lesson with my attention shifting between Professor Sprout and the grounds outside the greenhouse. I had been hoping to catch a glimpse of it last night but it had been too dark. Caleb had described the grounds to me as being far superior to those of Malfoy Manor’s and going by what little I had already seen, I knew I would agree.

I took an instant disliking to Professor Binns, the History of Magic teacher. Woodcreek had taught us little history, stating that it was only of minor importance. However, after speaking with Granger I was curious to learn more about the subject. Even Granger deflated when the ghost professor started talking. He was the only teacher that started teaching straight away, leaving us students to scramble in our bags for parchment and quills to take notes as he read from a long piece of parchment in his hands. The majority of the class gave up on paying attention after less than half an hour. I didn’t. I was determined to learn about the 1st Goblin War in 1248 and the events leading up to it. Finally, the bell rang for end of lesson. Professor Binns jumped when it did before dismissing us and picking up a different piece of parchment which I assumed was for his next lesson. I shook my head in disbelief.

As I left the History of Magic room, I was faced with Draco.

“I can’t believe this,” he said, matching his pace with mine. Granger on my other side looked shocked that a random person had struck up a conversation with us. I glanced behind and sure enough Crabbe and Goyle were a few paces behind.

“Can’t believe what?”

Draco sighed dramatically. “That we still have _another_ lesson. If Mother had sent me to Durmstrung like Father wanted-”

“Then you would have been up at the crack of dawn doing morning exercise,” I interrupted. “Face it, you wouldn’t have lasted a week.”

“Would have been better than this dump.” Draco kicked a door as we went by. Unfortunately, it seemed that the doors at Hogwarts had a habit of kicking back. The heavy wood door swung back violently at Draco, hitting him on the nose. He let out a yell, clutching at his nose as blood dripped down between his fingers. I was torn between amusement at the door’s revenge on my cousin and concern. Thankfully, a sixth-year Hufflepuff prefect had witnessed the entire incident and told Draco to go see Madam Pomfrey, the school’s Healer.

“One of you should go with him,” she said.

“I’ll go.” I turn to leave.

“Sage?”

“Tell the professor that I’ll be late, would you,” I told Granger without turning back to face her.

The Hospital Wing wasn’t too difficult to find. Draco and I were used to navigating our way around large building thanks to the Pure-Blood love of over-sized mansions and castles. The doors to the Hospital Wing were already open as we approached. Despite this, my Pure-Blood manners got the better of me and I knocked on the door before entering. Draco stayed behind me, still holding his bleeding nose as Madam Pomfrey came through a door the other side of the wing.

“What in Merlin’s name happened?” Madam Pomfrey asked when she saw Draco’s blood stained face.

She led him over to the nearest bed and sat him down. Draco cried out when she pried his hands away from his nose. She tutted as she examined the damage. I perched on the bed beside Draco and took his hand in mine. He squeezed my hand, digging his nails in, so hard that I nearly pulled away again. Madam Pomfrey had disappeared to one of the glass cabinets holding different potions and creams and bottles. When she came back, she had a blood replenishing potion in one hand and a bowl filled with water in the other. Madam Pomfrey set the bowl onto the bedside table. I glanced at Draco. Like me, he had a fairly pale complexion but the red from his nose made his face appear even more white. Only my cousin could pick a fight with a door that fought back.

“Ok, dear. I’m going to use a spell to fix your nose and then I need you to drink this potion before you can go back to class,” explained Madam Pomfrey as she poured the potion into a small goblet.

Draco nodded, grimly.

“It’s going to hurt, resetting bones isn’t painless,” she warned.

I hadn’t thought it possible but Draco went paler still. I squeezed his hand reassuringly.

“Ready?”

Draco nodded, closing his eyes.

“On the count of three then. One.”

Draco’s grip on my hand tightens almost painfully.

“Two.”

Draco cries out as Madam Pomfrey casts her spell on two rather than three.

“What happened to three?” demanded Draco. His face was a mixture of agony and fury. I bit back a smile at his over-reaction. Trust Lord Draco to make a scene.

Madam Pomfrey ignored him. She pushed the potion into his hand and sternly told him to drink before disappearing back into her office. Draco sniffed the potion before pulling back in disgust.

“I am not drinking this,” he said. Draco lifted his chin, trying to make himself taller.

“Why?” I asked. I was somewhat distracted as I tried to pry Draco’s fingers off my hand.

Draco pulled his hand back in disgust, and used it to grip the goblet with two hands instead of one.

“It’s obviously not up to standard, Sage.” Draco looked at me as if I were stupid. I clenched my jaw, tempted to break his nose again. “You only need to smell it to tell that.”

“Then hold your nose, so you can’t smell it.”

Draco’s look intensified. “I broke my nose, Sage. It hurts.”

“You’re such a baby.”

“I am not!”

“Maybe I should write to Uncle Lucius and Aunt Cissa and tell them that you don’t quite seem ready for Hogwarts. I mean if you’re not old enough and brave enough to swallow one small potion then maybe you shouldn’t be at Hogwarts yet.”

Draco looked at me in horror.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Do you remember Goyle’s older brother? He was a couple of years above us, well he started Hogwarts but struggled so his parents sent him be to Woodcreek for an extra year and now he’s back at Hogwarts and supposedly doing really well.”

“You can stop now, Sage,” said Draco. “I’ve taken the bloody potion.”

I smiled sweetly at him. “Well done.”

Draco reached up to scratch at the dried blood on his face.

“I thought your nose hurts,” I said.

“It does, but my face itches.” Draco continued scratching, letting small flakes of blood fall off onto the bed.

I caught his hand.

“You’ll only make it worse,” I told him.

I reached over to the bowl of water Madam Pomfrey had brought over, setting it on the floor. In the bottom was a cloth which I pulled out and wrung before kneeling in front of him on the floor. Draco flinched backwards when I started to gently wipe the blood off his face.

“What are you doing?” He asked, panicked.

“What does it look like?” I mumbled. My focus was on cleaning Draco’s face and I didn’t want to be distracted and accidently hurt him.

By the time Madam Pomfrey returned the water in the bowl was coloured red and Draco’s face was clear of blood. Instead I was working on wiping the blood off his hands.

“What in Merlin’s name do you think you are doing?” demanded Madam Pomfrey.

I looked up. Madam Pomfrey was glaring down at me.

“I was just washing off the blood,” I said. I could feel my temper starting to boil.

“Well you shouldn’t have done anything!” Madam Pomfrey took the cloth out of my hand and examined Draco’s face, checking that I hadn’t done him any damage.

I sat back on my heels for a couple of seconds before standing, grabbing my bag and leaving. I stormed through the castle back to the Gryffindor common room. How dare she underestimate me? I knew how to clean blood off someone, it wasn’t the first time I had done it.

I told the Fat Lady the password. She made a comment about how I should be in lessons but I ignored her.

Caleb and I were always injuring ourselves and cleaning each other up afterwards. It wasn’t that hard to clean any painful areas either and if I had hurt Draco he definitely would have said something, which he hadn’t.

I stomped up the stairs to the first-year girls’ dorm and slung my bag onto one of the pegs by my bed. The momentum of the bag caused some of the books to fall out and land heavily on the floor. I kicked them under the bed and threw myself onto the small mattress.

I had decided that I disliked Madam Pomfrey. She hadn’t even bothered to find out what had actually happened. Draco hadn’t helped either. The least he could have done was stick up for me. I rolled over. No. I didn’t need Draco to fight my battles for me. I didn’t need anyone to stand up for me or argue in my place. I was more than capable of doing that. I closed my eyes. My lack of sleep was catching up with me and I found myself struggling to stay awake enough to be annoyed at Madam Pomfrey and Draco.

Lazily, I reached up to close the curtains around my bed in an attempt to block out the sunlight. It helped a little.

I hadn’t slept properly since Caleb’s birthday two days ago. It was something of a tradition of ours that at midnight on the 31st August I go into Caleb’s room and we celebrate his birthday by sneaking into the kitchens and helping ourselves to treats. We were never caught. This particular year we had stayed up until nearly 4am playing chess. We should have known that the game would end up with us both taking too much time contemplating each move, frustrating one another with long pauses lasting, at one point, up to an hour.

Around half one we had decided that we were hungry and snuck downstairs in search of a midnight snack. Even I had to admit that chocolate cake tasted far better in the middle of the night when we knew we shouldn’t have been out of bed, let alone eating pudding.

We had argued after, having returned from the bathroom, I jumped on the bed, scattering all of the pieces from their places. Eventually, the chess pieces grew tired of our bickering and went back to their previous places. Why they couldn’t have done so before, we never did figure out.

Then, we had heard the noise of footsteps outside and in a massive panic had thrown the chess board under the bed and dived under the covers, pretending to be asleep. And all for nothing, as the footsteps continued past the door and straight to the bathroom. They didn’t even pause. So of course, the pieces had to be reset again, marking the beginning of yet another argument.

But it had been fun. Caleb had told me various stories about what I could expect from Hogwarts and the Sorting Ceremony.

Caleb’s birthday had been busy. Various family members had visited, asking after Caleb and Draco before remembering me and patting me absently on the cheek. Caleb seemingly spent the majority of the day opening gifts and being fawned over by guests. Draco had tried his best to steal some of the attention while I sat in the library rereading Hamlet. Aunt Cissa refused to allow me to sleep during the day meaning that my bedroom was off limits until after supper.

Lyam had also visited that day, staying briefly to give Caleb and I our birthday presents. He had bought Caleb a handsome leather money bag that he could attach to a belt. Caleb had been unimpressed yet still smiled politely at the generous gift. My present from Lyam, however, was opened away from the prying eyes of family. He had bought me a beautiful dragon skin purse which seemed to change colours slightly as I moved it in the light. I opened the purse to see inside and was surprised to find 10 galleons already sat at the bottom.

The day after was my birthday. Caleb and I were twins born on different days. This meant that not only was Caleb a day older than me, but he was also the year above me when it came to school. My birthday was never celebrated as much as Caleb’s. It made sense. Not only was he the oldest child but he was also a boy. Normally our family would stay the night of Caleb’s birthday and then be present for my own. However, since Caleb had started Hogwarts it had been too difficult for them to stay the night and for us to be ready on time to get to Kings Cross Station.

The night before my birthday, Caleb had woken me up at midnight insisting that we sneak downstairs and steal a slice of his birthday cake each. Half asleep I had agreed, thinking it would be easier to just go downstairs, get some cake then go back to sleep. Instead Caleb had insisting in following me back into my bedroom and staying the night. He had spent hours just talking about how excited he was to get back to Hogwarts and how amazing his birthday presents had been, well expect Lyam’s because ‘he obviously hadn’t spent enough money on him’. For the most part I had ignored him. Not that it stopped him talking. Caleb had finally fallen asleep about half three allowing me about two and a half hours of sleep before he had to sneak out back to his own room.

The near silence of the Gryffindor dorms helped to calm me. Outside I could hear the wind and owls as they flew by the window. It didn’t take all that long before I fell asleep. The problem was that I was woken up less than an hour later by the stomping of feet and the dorm door banging open.

“There she is,” said a voice out in the dorm. I groaned and covered my head with my pillow. “Lazing around in bed, while we had to go to lessons.”

How dare she. I sat up and yanked open the curtains. Brown and Patil were stood side by side across the room glaring at my bed.

“What’s wrong, Black?” said Brown. “Did we wake you up?”

“Yes actually. I was concerned that maybe a herd of elephants had somehow entered the castle, however now that I know it’s only you two, I suppose I have little to worry about.”

“That’s not very nice,” said Patil.

I raised an eyebrow at her.

“Come on, Pavarti,” Brown said, nudging the other girl. “Let’s go see how Harry is. I think he likes me.”

The two girls left the dorm again, giggling over Potter and convinced that he must have a crush on at least one of them. Downstairs I could hear Gryffindor students as they talked and made their way up and down the dorm stairs. Deciding that I wasn’t going to be getting any more sleep with so much noise I changed out of my uniform. I was halfway through braiding my hair when Granger opened the door.

“Where did you go?” she demanded.

I looked at her in the mirror. She looked angry. Why, though? It wasn’t as if my lack of attendance would affect her.

“I took Draco to Madam Pomfrey then came here because I was tired.”

“That’s not what Malfoy told Professor McGonagall,” said Granger.

I whipped round to face her, the end of my braid still in hand. “What did Draco say?”

Granger was shocked by my sudden anger. “He said that you stormed out of the hospital wing after Madam Pomfrey scolded you.” She paused, considering whether or not she dared to say something. I wait for her to grow up and say it. “Is it true?”

“Yes,” I said. No point in lying when she already knew the truth, I only wished that Draco had kept the details to himself.

I turned back to the mirror, finishing the braid and tying it off with a piece of ribbon.

“Why don’t we go to the library?” suggested Granger in a small voice. I glanced into the mirror. She had moved across the room to her bed and was playing with a loose thread on the duvet.

“Would you help me catch up with what I missed in Transfiguration?” I asked as I smoothed my robes. They were already perfect but I felt awkward just standing there doing nothing.

Granger jumped up from her bed and grabbed her bag. “Of course! It was amazing Sage! Professor McGonagall turned her desk into a pig! Can you imagine it?”


	4. 2,253 Days Remaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, sorry for the late update this week. I've been stuck in bed with the flu and only just started feeling better. Hopefully this won't happen again and it'll be back to Wednesday updates from here on. Sit back, and enjoy!

I spent most of breakfast preparing myself for what I planned on doing. When I stood up to leave for Transfiguration early, Granger demanded to know what I was doing. Once I told her, her eyes went wide and her mouth hung open in shock. I snapped at her to stop impersonating a fish and she snapped to attention before insisting that she come with me. I reluctantly agreed, convinced that she just wanted to watch me swallow my pride.

Professor McGonagall was already in the Transfiguration room, writing notes on the blackboard for our lesson. I knocked confidently on the door and entered with my head high when given permission to do so. Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes slightly when she saw it was me.

“You’re a little early, girls. Is there something I can help you with?” she said, crossing her arms and looking down at us. Granger seemed to shrink back from her hard stare.

“I wanted to apologise for skipping your lesson yesterday, Professor,” I said. I gripped the papers I was holding tighter and hold them out to the Transfiguration Professor. “Granger helped me catch up on the work I missed last night.”

Looking more than a little shocked, Professor McGonagall took the parchment and flicked through my notes. Granger had spent the better part of an hour explaining her notes from the lesson. We had then worked together to cross reference what was taught with information from our textbooks. The result had been three pieces of 6 inch parchments which Professor McGonagall was holding.

“I appreciate your apology and commend you for your extra work, Miss Black.” Professor McGonagall hands the parchment back. “However, I ask that you don’t make a habit of skipping any more of my lessons, or the lessons of your other Professors. I assure you that should you fall behind due to your own truancy you will find very few Professors willing to aid you.”

“Yes, Professor, I understand,” I replied.

Granger and I turned to take our seats.

“One more thing, Miss Black.”

“Yes, Professor?” I faced her once more.

“Might I suggest that you take the time to visit the hospital wing during your free period today. I doubt I am the only one who deserves an apology for your actions yesterday.”

I bit my lip. I had already apologised once today. I really didn’t want to do it again, especially when I didn’t regret my actions. “Yes, Professor.”

 

I left Defence Against the Dark Arts more annoyed that I had yesterday. Professor Quirrell was quickly showing just how useless he really was and for some reason Granger was still defending him. Our argument over Quirrell’s worth as a Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor continued to the library where we had once again decided to study. We didn’t stop arguing until Madam Pince threatened to kick us out for being too loud. Granger hastily apologised while I wandered off to roam the shelves in search for a book to help us with our Herbology homework.

I returned to our table with three books for us to share and a book called Lord of the Rings for me to read in my spare time.

“That book is really good,” said Granger, nodding at the Lord of the Rings.

“You’ve read it?”

Granger nodded enthusiastically. “My year 4 teacher read the Hobbit to us; that’s the prequel to that one. I read the trilogy over the summer before year 5. They were amazing!”

“Huh.” I turned the book over in my hands and reread the blurb. I wasn’t sure whether it sounded ‘amazing’ but Granger loved books so I was willing to trust her judgement on the matter.

Even if she was a muggle born.

Granger spoke a little more about various books in excited whispers, often using her hands to exaggerate her thoughts. At one point, however, she must have been too loud as Madam Pince gave us both a warning for our ‘inappropriate behaviour’, After that we worked together on the Herbology questions Professor Sprout had set for about half an hour before Granger changed the topic.

“When did you want to go see Madam Pomfrey?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I replied through gritted teeth. It was none of Granger’s business.

“But Professor McGonagall said –”

I throw down my quill and glare at the bossy muggle born. “I have no intentions of apologising to someone when I did nothing wrong.”

Granger folded her arms. “What exactly happened?” she demanded.

I told her.

“Professor McGonagall was right, Sage,” Granger said, without considering any of the facts beforehand. “You should apologise to Madam Pomfrey for how you acted. She was probably worried that you had hurt Malfoy and it was rude for you to storm off.”

“I was the rude one?” I said.

Madam Pince glared in our direction. I was being too loud but didn’t care. I tried to force myself to count to five but gave up at two. I was angry.

“I shouldn’t have to apologise for my actions as unlike her I actually helped Draco by cleaning him up.”

“You could have hurt him though!” insisted Granger.

“No I couldn’t have,” I said, shoving my books and parchments into my bag. “Because unlike you, I actually know what I’m doing and aren’t some stupid muggle born who thinks that I know everything when I don’t.”

My bag knocked a book off the table as I stormed away from our table and out of the library. How dare she? How dare she assume that she knew better than me when until a month ago she had no idea about magic? She had no clue what she was talking about. She was just a stupid, bossy, know-it-all mudblood who thought that she knew better than me. Well she didn’t. There was no way on Earth that a mudblood knew better than me.

Once in the dorm I threw down my bag and ripped my hair ribbon out, letting dark curls cascade down my back. What in Merlin’s name had made Granger think that she had the right to boss me about? We hadn’t even known each other three days and she was already acting like we had known each other for life. She called me by my first name, assumed that she could give me advice and expected me to listen to her. The girl was still practically a stranger to me. A clingy little girl who for some reason decided to glue herself to my side. At that moment in time, I despised Hermione Granger. I hated how sure she was and how she naturally took the lead of any situation and how she could answer any question thrown at her in class even if we were yet to cover it. How could a muggle born possess every quality that I didn’t? How could a muggle born be so much better than me in every single bloody way?

Instead of braiding my hair again, I pull it into a high pony tail similar to the one I had seen Celia with over the summer. It didn’t look half as good on me as it had her. My dense curls had made the hair on the top of my head appear lumpy and untidy. I had also missed a chunk of hair behind my right ear. I sighed and pull the ribbon out again, gentler this time. After messing around with my hair for a while, I settle on braiding it again. My hair was useless for anything else.

At dinner I made a point of ignoring Hermione and instead sought out Caleb. He was surprised at first but let me sit with him and his group of friends. Despite the looks sent my way by distrustful Slytherins it was the most pleasant meal I had had at Hogwarts since arriving. The chatter at the Slytherin table was familiar and much quieter than that at the Gryffindor table. A few of the older students recognised me and made some effort to ask me how I was getting on. For the most part I lied. Telling them that Gryffindor barely compared to Slytherin. In response I received encouragement from the first years to write home in hopes my Uncle would contact Professor Dumbledore concerning a re-sorting. The second years laughed at their suggestion, telling me I would have to settle for the house of the stupid. Re-sortings didn’t happen at Hogwarts.

Later that night, I was the last to arrive in the dorm. Brown and Patil were whispering to each other but abruptly stopped as I opened the door. They were talking about me, probably because I broke the unwritten rule that no Gryffindor shall approach a Slytherin without intent to harm.

Granger was reading a book on Potions and didn’t even look up when I got into bed.

That was fine by me. I didn’t particularly want to talk to her anyway.


	5. 2,249 Days Remaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, a slightly longer chapter again this week and also the end of the first 'part'/ 'story arc' whatever you want to call it. Anyway, starting next week events from the book will start happening so yay!(?) But for now, sit back, and enjoy!

The rest of my first week at Hogwarts followed on similarly to Tuesday evening. Granger and I were ignoring each other, Brown and Patil whispered and giggled too much, the first-year boys were oblivious and I spent most meals at the Slytherin table. Draco and I had spent much of Friday lunch arguing over Snape’s use as a teacher. At least we agreed that Quirrell wasn’t worth his salt.

Saturday was a welcome break. I wasn’t used to such long days. Woodcreek consisted of four lessons a day which ended not long after lunch with a handful of extra-curricular activities held in the late afternoon. Combining the too long days with my continuing difficulty to sleep in the dormitory, I was more than ready for a lie in Saturday morning. I didn’t, of course. Granger, Brown and Patil were too disruptive for that. However, I did get a few extra hours of peace to draw in the Common Room.

Another reason I had been looking forward to Saturday was because it meant that I would get to spend time with Celia. She approached me Friday evening and had promised to meet me at 1pm in the Entrance Hall the next day.

1pm came and went. I watched as students exited the Grand Hall in groups, none paying me more than a quick, uninterested glance. I bit my lip, and tried to hide in the shadows of the wall I was leaning on. Where in Merlin’s name was Celia? It had been her idea to show me around, the least she could do was be on time.

Eventually, I saw her leave the Great Hall with a few friends. She spotted me straight away and waved her friends goodbye.

“You’re late,” I said as she stopped in front of me.

Celia looked confused as she checked her watch. “It’s only five past one.”

“Punctuality is important.”

Celia considered me. “You spent too much time with your Grandfather over the summer.”

“Are you showing me around or not?” I demanded.

“Let’s go!” said Celia, beaming as she linked our arms.

For the first time since arriving at Hogwarts I found myself properly relaxing. Celia had that effect on people. She would smile and you would feel instantly at ease and compelled to smile back. We chatted as Celia showed me the castle. I told her all about the terrible Potions lesson the day before and how Snape favoured the Slytherins so obviously. Celia assured me this was normal and told me about the time a cat disrupted one of her Potions lessons the previous year.

Professor Snape had been teaching the second-years the uses of Swelling Solutions (it was beyond boring, Sage. You’ll hate the theory based lessons in second-year!) when he had been interrupted by meowing. Bear in mind, this was Hogwarts where cats roamed free, toads over-ran every body of water and owls filled the skies, so hearing a cat wasn’t that big of a deal. Especially in the dungeons, where Potions was taught and there were plenty of mice and rats for the cats to chase.

It wasn’t until the meowing become loud enough to cut off Professor Snape every other word that the Potions Master started getting annoyed (Professor Snape has a habit of turning slightly red in the face when angered. It can be almost funny at times. When it isn’t completely terrifying, that is. No matter what, Sage, please don’t purposefully try to get him that angry!).

The meowing soon escalated to yowling and scratching. By this point the class was filling with whispers and ignoring Professor Snape. Professor Snape just stopped talking, glaring at each student in turn (I was so scared. I thought he was going to give us all detention) before striding down the classroom. At the opposite end to Snape’s desk was the storage cupboard where he kept extra supplies such as ingredients, cauldrons and textbooks. Professor Snape stopped in front of the cupboard. The entire class twisted in their seats to watch, deathly silent.

Professor Snape threw open the cupboard door.

There wasn’t a cat in there.

The entire room was silent for about three seconds before the meowing started again.

Professor Snape ordered the entire class to leave. He did so, so quietly at first that no-one dared move, before yelling at the second-years to leave unless they wanted to be in detention until the end of term. On her way out, Celia had looked back to see Professor Snape opening and closing cupboards and drawers and frantically looking under desks and flinging open windows.

It turned out that one of the Hufflepuff’s cat who had recently had kittens. He hadn’t realised until the mysterious meowing began that one of the kittens had somehow snuck into his bag, in which it was then shut into.

Celia’s story left me laughing so hard my sides quickly began to ache. My laughter was seemingly infectious as Celia soon joined in. I hadn’t laughed like that in so long. Aunt Cissa got annoyed if I laughed too loudly, saying it was unbecoming and unladylike. But with Celia that didn’t matter because she was laughing just as hard as me.

We were still giggling when we reached the top of the owlery. Celia lent against me slightly for support, out of breath from laughing and climbing so many stairs. I was breathing hard and struggled to catch my breath. The horrible smell of owl droppings didn’t help. I wanted to gag at the smell and asked Celia if we could leave. She looked at me in horror.

“But we only just got here!” She insisted.

“It smells,” I said.

Celia huffed out a laugh, still out of breath. “You’re only saying that because you don’t like animals.”

“I like animals just fine, thank you very much,” I said, crossing my arms and taking care not to lean on any walls. “It’s just their smell, and mess that I don’t like. Also, they don’t like me.”

“Honestly, it was one bird, Sage!” Celia was laughing again.

“And a fox and a cat and there was that spider one time.” I couldn’t help but smile a little too.

Celia led me over to the centre of the owlery and called down her owl, Kiara.

“Have you written home yet?” asked Celia as she tied a letter onto Kiara’s leg.

“No.” Kiara fixed her overly large, yellow eyes on me. I glared back.

“You should.”

“Why?”

“Because they’ll want to know how you’re getting on?” Kiara flew out one of the glassless windows.

I laughed, bitterly. “I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to find out about how I’m getting on.

“Dear Uncle Lucius and Aunt Cissa,

I do hope you are proud of me and the fact that I am breaking family tradition and have been sorted into Gryffindor. No need to worry, though, I assure you. Only half my dorm-mates are Mud-Bloods, the third is even a Blood Traitor! Oh, and I nearly forgot, my only acquaintance to date is one of the Mud-Bloods in my dorm.

“Love and respect, Sage.”

Celia met my glare with her own. “You shouldn’t be using that word.”

I turned my face away. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It doesn’t matter. Using the m-word is despicable, Sage!” scolded Celia. “You really did spend too much time with your Grandfather this summer.”

“Hmm.”

“Let’s go down, it’s chilly up here.”

We were half way down the stairs when Celia broke the silence. “Why did you stop talking to the Muggle-Born girl? Granger, right?”

“We had a fight,” I said. I really didn’t want to talk about it.

To my surprise Celia chuckled. “That must be a new record. Two days and you’ve already fallen out with your new friend.”

Instead of replying I pulled ahead, putting me a few steps in front of Celia. I didn’t want her to see me sulking.

“What happened?” Celia asked.

Reluctantly, I told her what had happened at the start of the week. Celia stayed quiet for a few seconds as we walked, side by side again, across the grounds. I wasn’t sure where she was leading us, but we seemed to be heading towards the lake.

“I think Granger was right,” Celia said, eventually.

“Well I don’t,” I said.

“Sage, just listen to what I have to say,” begged Celia. “Madam Pomfrey may seem a little unfair, but trust me when I say she only wants the best for the students. Like Granger said, she probably panicked when you cleaned Draco up. Most of the students here wouldn’t have known what to do and _would_ have hurt him. Madam Pomfrey only reacted like that because she was putting Draco’s well-being first, just like you were by washing off the blood.”

I hadn’t thought of it like that.

“You don’t think she was being unfair?” I asked.

“Not in the slightest,” replied Celia. Her face was set and I knew that no amount of arguing would change her mind.

“So I assume you’re now going to try to persuade me to go and apologise to Madam Pomfrey?”

“No.”

“What?”

Celia smiled and sat down near the lake’s edge. I sat a little further back, uncomfortable being so close to such a large body of water.

“You’re the most stubborn person I know. I think you should apologise but I know that the more I push you to do so the more you will stick your heels in and refuse to do so,” explained Celia. “I hope you apologise, but I’m not going to force you.”

“Oh.”

We sat in silence for a while. Celia was probably hoping that her words of wisdom would be making me reconsider my actions. They were. Not that I would admit that to her, of course. Granger telling me I was wrong is one thing but Celia? I respected her too much to ignore her opinion. So then maybe-

“Any favourite classes yet?” asked Celia.

“Transfiguration is alright,” I replied. “I quite like Professor McGonagall. Quirrell is pretty useless though.”

Celia shrugged. “He used to teach muggle studies but went away to gain some field experience. Rumour has it he ran into a vampire whilst he was away and it nearly drained his soul from his body. That’s why he’s so jumpy. He knows what he’s talking about though.”

“Doesn’t mean he can teach it or actually _do_ anything.”

Celia shrugged again. “He’s better than the last couple of Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers. They were horrible.”

Celia and I stayed by the lake until dinner. The Great Hall was already bursting with students as we approached. I shrunk back slightly. Although I had only been at Hogwarts for a week I already got the feeling that most of the students didn’t like me all that much. As a result, I tried my best to avoid the Great Hall whenever it was too busy.

“I’m not overly hungry,” I told Celia. “I’m going to go back to Gryffindor Tower for a while.”

“Are you sure?” asked Celia. She looked torn between concern for me and eagerness to get back to her friends.

I nodded and assured her I would be back down to eat later.

Celia, like I had expected, didn’t waste much time entering the Great Hall meaning I was free to head left towards the Hospital Wing without her noticing. I had made up my mind. Celia was right and that meant I had to apologise.

The walk to the Hospital Wing was shorter than I would have liked. Just because I had accepted that I had done wrong, didn’t mean that I was willing to admit it. Especially to the person I had wronged. There was also the problem that if I apologised to Madam Pomfrey then I would, by default, have to apologise to Granger for saying she was wrong.

The door to the Hospital Wing was large and made from a heavy looking wood, much like the rest of Hogwart’s doors.

The last thing I wanted to do was knock on the door.

I knocked twice before pushing open the door.

The Hospital Wing had multiple beds set at equal intervals along the curved wall of the tower. At the centre of the room was a circular staircase leading upwards. As I made my way towards the middle of the room, I tilted my head upwards, curious to know what was up there. My inspection was cut short, however, when Madam Pomfrey herself appeared at the top of them.

“What’s wrong?” she said. Her voice was sharp and no-nonsense. I was beginning to doubt Celia’s assurance that Madam Pomfrey cared about the students. She seemed too sharp to care. “Are you feeling ill?”

“No, ma’am.”

Madam Pomfrey had descended the stairs and was stood just a little way in front of me, her eyebrows raised in question.

“I wanted to apologise for my actions the other day.” I refused to meet her gaze and was talking too fast. I cursed myself. I couldn’t be rude _again._ I forced myself to look up. “I lost my temper the other day and you were right to scold me. I’m sorry.”

“Honestly, all this drama over what happened the other day?” Madam Pomfrey sighed in aspiration.

“But-”

“You’re Sage Black, correct?” asked Madam Pomfrey.

“Um… yes?” I replied, shocked by the sudden change of subject.

Madam Pomfrey waved me towards the stairs. “I’ve been needing to talk to you. You should have visited sooner. Follow me.”

Still confused by what Madam Pomfrey could be talking about I obeyed.

At the top of the spiral stairs was what I assumed to be Madam Pomfrey’s office. Half of the walls were covered by cupboards which I assumed were full of healing supplies. The other side of the room had a desk, filling cabinet and office chair. Those I expected. The two comfy looking sofas were more of a surprise.

“Sit,” said Madam Pomfrey, waving me towards the sofas as she began searching through the filling cabinet.

I was beginning to get an idea as to why she wanted to talk to me. I scolded myself for my stupidity and forgetfulness. Aunt Cissa had even reminded me before I boarded the Hogwarts Express to speak to the school Healer as soon as possible. I sunk into the sofa, embarrassed.

“Here we are.” Madam Pomfrey sat on the other sofa across from me. We were separated by a low table with a plate of biscuits, a jug of cold water and a set of four identical glasses. “You take daily Mel Amarum, correct?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Madam Pomfrey nodded, looking over the parchments in her hands. “St Mungos will send me your potions on the last day of every month. I expect you to visit on the first so I can check your blood sugars. Understood?”

I nodded. This wasn’t so different from being back home. Although at home I had to visit St Mungos. It would make a nice change not to do so.

“I assume you have enough potions for the rest of the month?”

“Yes, they’re in my dorm. In my trunk still for safety,” I replied.

Madam Pomfrey nodded slowly before looking up at me. “I’m only going to give you a week supply of potions at a time to lessen chances of damage and them getting lost. You can drop by Saturday or Sunday, your choice.”

“Sunday.”

“One last thing, Miss Black. If you ever feel unwell I need you to report straight to me, I don’t care if you’re in the middle of an exam, if its two in the morning. You must come straight here and preferably make sure someone comes with you.”

I was somewhat shocked by this. Everything considering the Mel Amarum potions was understandable, but I couldn’t understand why she would be so insistent that I visit the Hospital Wing whenever I felt unwell. Nevertheless, I agreed.

After this, Madam Pomfrey quickly shooed me out of the Hospital Wing and to the Great Hall to eat. She had left me with one last instruction: I had to tell someone in my dormitory about my diabetes so that they could keep an eye out for any symptoms. Lyam would probably have insisted it was the Fates intervening. My first choice would obviously be Granger. I had very little doubt that Brown and Patil would watch me suffer before going for help. Granger didn’t seem like that sort of person, at least I hoped she wasn’t. Either way I felt as if I’d been left with little choice but to make things right with Granger.

The Great Hall was noticeably quieter, making it easy to spot Granger. Like me, she seemed to avoid the larger crowds as often as possible. I gathered my courage, approaching her nervously. As I got closer, I noticed the book she had laid open next to her plate. I smiled slightly. Granger always had a book with her. I thought back to the way she had spoken about The Lord of the Rings a few days beforehand. I’d never known for a person to be so openly passionate about something. It was interesting.

Still slightly reluctant, I stopped next to her.

“Mind if I sit here?” I asked, waving at the empty seat.

Granger jumped and her head whipped around to stare at me. I forced myself to smile. I didn’t want to do it and swore to myself I was never apologising for anything ever again. It was too humiliating.

Once the surprise had gone, Granger nodded coldly, before putting all her attention back to her book. I awkwardly began adding food to my plate. My stomach was in knots. Talking to Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey had been easy compared to this. I didn’t particularly care what they thought of me. They were paid to teach me and look after me, it’s not like their opinions would change that. Granger on the other hand. I _had_ enjoyed spending time with her. I’d been lonely after our fight and, much to my surprise, I found myself wanting her to like me and wanting to do homework in the library together again.

What if I said sorry and she still disliked me?

No-one else in Gryffindor looked at me twice, so if I wasn’t friends with Granger then who would I be friends with?

I didn’t want to be alone. Even Caleb had made friends. And Draco. And Celia.

I was scared.

No. I couldn’t be scared. The sorting hat had put me in Gryffindor which had to mean that I was brave. I could do this. So what if there was a chance Granger will reject me? If I didn’t try-

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out. There I’d said it.

Granger looked up from her book to face me.

“You were right about Madam Pomfrey and I was being silly not to realise that. I hope that maybe we can be friends again but then again if you don’t want to talk to me anymore then I completely understand that too and –”

“Did you finish the Potions homework Professor Snape set yesterday?”

That wasn’t the response I’d expected. Although maybe it was for the best, I had been rambling a bit too much.

“No,” I replied.

“Nor have I, did you want to go to the library? We can work together on it,” said Granger. “I heard some of the second-years talking about a really useful Potions book they have there that might be of help.”

“Ok, sure.”

We both turned back to our food.

What just happened?

“Nope,” I said. “You’ve lost me completely. I thought you hated me?”

Granger shrugged. “Well, to be honest, I did.”

“Great!”

“But you apologised,” said Granger as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“And that solved everything?” I pressed.

Granger smiled. “It helped. People in the library were quieter when you were with me.”

I forced a smile in return. I had noticed that. The older students often seemed to give me a wide berth, but if that was useful to Granger then I wasn’t going to be too upset. I had expected things to be tense between us but it was as if the last few days had never happened. If anything, Granger seemed to like me more than before. Uncle Lucius always swore that apologising to our inferiors was beneath Purebloods like us. It wasn’t the first time I felt as if he’d been proven wrong.


	6. 2,247 Days Remaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I'm so sorry that this is yet another late update. It snowed. A lot. And I got distracted. In apology, and because this is such a short chapter anyway, I plan to update again tomorrow. With that said, sit back and enjoy!

Granger and I came into Gryffindor Common Room from our last lesson to a growing crowd stationed around the notice board. Me, being taller, offered to battle my way to the front to find out what was going on. Finnegan wasn’t far behind me. Surprisingly, the older Gryffindors moved aside for us without too much fuss.

I nearly groaned aloud when I read through the notice board. Not only had club times been listed but so had flying lessons. Caleb had warned me about this. All first years had to take weekly flying lessons on Thursday afternoons. Beside me, Finnegan cheered and rushed back out the crowd. I followed behind, noticeably less enthusiastic.

The first years had swarmed Finnegan whereas Granger came straight to my side.

“Well?” she asked.

“We have to do flying lessons,” I said.

Granger paled. “Like broomsticks?”

“On broomsticks,” I confirmed.

“Can you fly?” We sat down round one of the smaller tables scattered around the common room.

I glared at her. “Not well,” I said. Bitterness was evident in my tone. “I had a few lessons when I was younger, but Caleb and Draco always out flew me, so I gave up.”

“Are they good?”

I nodded. “Caleb is an amazing flyer, he’s a natural. Draco is good but not as good as he thinks. Could be quite funny, actually.”

“What could be?”

I smirked. “Watching Draco get knocked off his high broom.”

Granger seemed horrified. “But surely he’ll get hurt if he falls off his broom.”

“It’s a figure of speech.”

“Like high horse?”

I tilted my head. Muggles seemed to just keep on getting stranger.

 

Granger insisted that I helped her find a copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ in the library. At first, I didn’t question it. Everyone seemed to like quidditch and talk about it so the fact that Granger would want to learn more about it wasn’t a surprise.

 


	7. 2,246 Days Remaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, so this is the first of two updates today seeing at it is so ridiculously short (sorry, not sorry). Sit back, and enjoy!

It wasn't until Tuesday I realised her true intentions. It seemed that Granger assumed she could learn everything she needed to know about flying from a book. She couldn't. I told her this.


	8. 2,245 Days Remaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, update two of two for today. Sit back, and enjoy!

Granger ignored my advice on the uselessness of books when it came to flying and was half way through _Quidditch Through the Ages_. I gave up and left her to it.

I finally told Granger about my diabetes in an attempt to distract her. I had meant to do so earlier but forgot. In true Granger fashion, she asked endless questions; I was getting used to it by that point. It was over dinner that I learnt Muggles don't treat diabetes the same way we do. Their way with needles sounded far more painful. I shuddered at the idea of living without magic.


	9. 2,244 Days Remaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, a full length chapter again today. Wish I could say there will be no more silly short chapters but I know better, sorry? Anyway, thanks to everyone who is reading this, so, sit back, and enjoy!

Breakfast on Thursday morning was strange for two reasons.

Firstly, Granger and I willingly sat with the other first year Gryffindors for the first time. Well, Granger was willing. I was blackmailed with the alternative of sitting alone.

Secondly, whilst half of the Gryffindors were acting over-excited and giddy over flying, Granger, Brown and Patil, Longbottom and I were sat in dread of what the afternoon would bring. I had been surprised to hear that Brown had only flown a few times, due to a fear of heights. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Personally, I loved being up high. Preferably up a tree rather than on a less-than-stable broomstick, though. Longbottom, on the other hand, surprised no-one when he told us that he had never been allowed near, let alone on, a broomstick. He struggled with co-ordination enough when on the ground, that putting him on a broomstick seemed like a recipe for injury.

Granger, however, didn’t share my views and happily read out every so-called useful part of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ insisting that it would help. Longbottom hung on to every word she said whilst the rest of us wished that Granger would allow us a peaceful breakfast. We were saved by the post arriving.

The first week it seemed as if everyone received post from home – things students had left at home, treats and sweets, and reassuring letters for homesick first-years from over-bearing and worrying parents. The amount of post had decreased during the second week. Nevertheless, I looked up and watched out for a familiar owl like I had every morning. Once again, there wasn’t one.

Longbottom eagerly tore into a brown paper parcel. Inside was a glass ball filled with swirling, white smoke. I frowned, unable to place the magical object. It was familiar and I was sure that

Lyam had one in his office.

Granger asked what it was.

“It’s a Remembrall! Gran knows I forget things – this tells you if there’s something you’ve forgotten to do. Look, you hold it like this.” Neville gripped the Remembrall in his right palm and squeezed.

I turned back to my porridge, uninterested.

“And if it turns red – oh…”

I looked up again. The white smoke had turned into a deep red and seemed to be swirling faster than before, twisting and knotting itself inside the glass ball.

“You’ve forgotten something,” Longbottom trailed off.

I fought back a laugh and ate the last few mouthfuls of my breakfast. Meanwhile, the rest of Gryffindor were helping Longbottom to remember what he hadn’t done. Everyone was so distracted that they didn’t notice Draco as he approached our table, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle on each side. I had hoped that he would pass us by and fully expected him to. That was until I realised Draco had spotted the Remembrall now only lightly held by Longbottom as he flapped his arms still trying to remember what he’d forgotten.

Before I could stop him, Draco plucked the Remembrall from Longbottom’s unsuspecting fingers. I turned in my seat to scold him but Potter and Weasley jumped the curse and shot to their feet. They were hoping for a fight and probably would have started one too had Professor McGonagall not intervened.

“What’s going on?” She looked at each of us in turn, daring one of us to say something.

To my surprise it was Longbottom who spoke up. “Malfoy’s got my Remembrall, Professor.”

Draco glared at Longbottom in disgust. I fought not to mirror the expression. Among underaged Purebloods it was an unwritten rule to never involve adults into our fights. To tell was to betray and show weakness, and that’s exactly what Longbottom had done. I almost felt sorry for him. He had just painted a target on his back and there was little he could do to erase it.

“I was just looking,” said Draco. He gave Professor McGonagall a look of feigned innocence and stalked away with Crabbe and Goyle at his heels.

The first-year Gryffindors, apart from Potter and Weasley who were being lectured by Professor McGonagall for over-reacting, had gone back to their previous conversation; the unsolvable mystery of what Longbottom couldn’t remember.

It had gotten too painful. Surely someone had noticed?

“Your robes,” I blurted out as Professor McGonagall left.

Almost as one, eight heads turned to face me.

“W-what?” stuttered Longbottom.

“You aren’t wearing your robes this morning,” I explained. “I assume you forget them?”

Longbottom looked down at himself and sure enough he wasn’t wearing his robes.

“Oh no!” Longbottom started flapping his arms again.

It took Thomas and Potter a while to convince Longbottom that none of their morning Professors would notice and even if they did, he wouldn’t get into trouble if McGonagall hadn’t said anything. While the two boys did their best to calm their distraught room-mate, Weasley glared at me.

“You couldn’t have said something earlier, Black?”

I met his glare, my own temper flaring. “In case you didn’t notice no-one asked me or attempted to include me in the conversation. Therefore, why, in Merlin’s name, should I have said anything?”

“No-one speaks to you, because no-one likes you. You’re bloody horrible to everyone and-”

“Shouldn’t you all be getting to class?” Carrie Austen had come up behind me. “And next time you want to argue, do so a little quieter. You’re lucky none of the Professors heard or we would be losing points right about now.”

With that, everyone but me muttered hurried apologies and started scurrying for the door, all too scared to argue with a sixth-year Prefect. I took my time, not wanting to be with the rest of my year. Austen looked at me sympathetically and opened her mouth to say something. I turned away before she could. I didn’t want her pity or reassurances or whatever else she had to offer. I didn’t need her and I didn’t need any of the other Gryffindors.

I wasn’t at Hogwarts to make friends. I was there to learn and become a respectable Pureblood and-

I couldn’t remember anymore of Grandfather’s lecture.

 

Our first flying lesson came around far too quickly. It was good weather for flying. The sky was relatively clear and the wind was minimal. I told Granger this and ignored her reply which was full of statistics she had memorised from _Quidditch Through the Ages_. The Slytherins had arranged themselves in a huddle the other side of the broomsticks which had been laid out. A few looked up to glare at the Gryffindors as they approached.

Fortunately, Madam Hooch appeared before yet another argument could begin.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up,” she called.

It was something of a stampede as first-years rushed to pick a broomstick. Most of them looked too old and worn to be ridden. Granger dragged me over to the nearest two and started muttering facts to herself and Longbottom on her other side.

Madam Hooch positioned herself between the two rows of brooms and, once everyone had picked a broomstick, instructed us to hold our right hand above our broomsticks. I switched sides and held out my left. Everyone did as instructed and looked at her, expectantly. A few of the Purebloods were getting impatient at having to wait.

“Good, now say, UP!” instructed Madam Hooch.

Draco’s flew straight to his hand. As did Potter’s, much to my surprise. My broomstick took a little bit more persuasion but rose reluctantly into my hand after my second try. Granger and Longbottom struggled so much that Madam Hooch came over to help them.

Once everyone was holding their broomsticks we were told to mount them. Madam Hooch travelled down the lines, correcting grips and positions. I smirked when I overheard her correcting Draco’s ‘superior’ broomstick riding position. I shuffled slightly, getting annoyed at how long this was taking. I wasn’t fond of flying but some part of me was looking forward to being in the air without fear of Caleb trying to knock me out of the sky.

“Now,” said Madam Hooch. “When I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard. Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet and then come straight back down by leaning forwards slightly. On my whistle – three – two –”

Madam Hooch didn’t get the chance to blow her whistle as Longbottom pushed off from the ground too early. I shook my head. He was too nervous. Idiot.

I watched with little interest as Longbottom rose higher and higher before losing his balance and falling about twenty feet to the ground. There was an audible gasp as he hit the floor. Even I winced at the clear _crack_ of a broken bone. Madam Hooch bent over him, checking he was ok. After a few seconds, she helped Longbottom to his feet and with the threat of expulsion should we remount our broomsticks, led him away.

I wasn’t surprised when Draco burst into laughter and began mocking Longbottom. It had been a stupid mistake. Admittedly, one we had all made at some point but it didn’t make it any less funny. The rest of the Slytherins joined in the laughter and I fought to keep a smile off my face. Granger would say I was being mean if she saw me smiling and I didn’t want to fall out with her again.

“Did you see his face, the great lump?” cackled Draco.

The rest of Slytherin joined in. I glared at him. Laughing at the mistake was fine, it was common enough, but there was no need to add insult to injury.

“Enough, Draco,” I said, causing a number of students to whip around and look at me in shock. I ignored them.

“Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?” said Parkinson, a girl I had never gotten along with. “Never thought _you’d_ like fat, little, cry-babies, Black.”

I would have thrown back an insult had Draco not spoken up.

“Look! It’s that stupid thing Longbottom’s grandmother sent him.”

In his hand a small reflective object winked in the sun. The Remembrall.

“Give that here, Malfoy,” said Potter from behind me. By now all the first-years had fallen silent and were watching.

Draco sneered. I had a good idea what he was going to do and considered warning him against it.

“I think I’ll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to collect. How about – up a tree?”

“Draco!”

“Give it _here_!”

Potter and I yelled at the same time but neither of us were quick enough to stop Draco mount his broom and sour upwards.

He stopped to hover alongside the top branches of a nearby oak and called down a challenge to Potter.

Unsurprisingly, Potter played straight into Draco’s hands and followed him into the air despite Granger’s begging him not to. I took in a sharp breath as Potter angled his broom to climb higher until he was level with Draco. A fall from that height would mean more than just a broken wrist.

Although, Potter was doing better than I had thought he would. When he shot forward it was a little jerky and abrupt and he looked a little off balance when he sharply turned the broom to face Draco but for a first-time flyer he was impressive.

Without warning Draco dashed towards the ground as Potter shot off across the sky. Draco landed too fast and lost his footing and falling to the ground. No-one saw as they were too focused on Potter.

“You idiot,” I hissed as Draco scrambled to his feet. “You could have fallen! You could have died! And Potter – You do realise he’s never flown before, don’t you? What if _he_ had fallen?”

Draco met my glare with one of his own. It was notably less impressive. “I wish he had. Would have served him right.”

“You’re a disgusting coward!”

I stormed off back to where Granger had been stood. She was no longer there. Instead, she was part of the crowd surrounding Potter. I started forward when I heard heavy footsteps approaching from behind.

“HARRY POTTER!” Professor McGonagall screamed. I stepped back just in time as she ran past. “ _Never_ – in all my time at Hogwarts – how _dare_ you – might have broken your neck –”

“It wasn’t his fault, Professor –”

“Be quiet, Miss Patil –”

“But Malfoy –”

“That’s _enough_ , Mr Weasley. Potter, follow me, now.”

Draco, Crabbe and Goyle all looked stupidly proud of themselves until Madam Hooch reappeared soon after Professor McGonagall disappeared. I hurried forwards to meet her and explained Potter’s absence before anyone else could get Draco in trouble. He owed me for covering for him.

Despite having lost most of the lesson, Madam Hooch insisted that we all flew. Longbottom took a lot of persuasion but eventually hovered a few inches off the ground alongside the other first-time flyers whilst those of us who had flown before went in slow and lazy circles around the Quidditch Pitch. By the end of the lesson the mood had risen and even Granger seemed somewhat keen for another flying lesson.

I had half hoped that Granger’s unexpected enjoyment of flying would mean that we could skip a trip to the library but no luck. We had a History of Magic essay to write and Charms questions to answer. Well, Granger had all that to do. I sat and read _The Lord of the Rings_. Granger had been right; it was a good book.

 

It wasn’t until we were getting ready for bed that we heard the news. Potter was on the Quidditch team and him and Weasley were planning a Wizard’s Duel with Draco. Malfoy had challenged Potter at dinner and Finnegan had overheard and told Thomas who in turn had told Brown in the common room who was happily telling Patil as they entered our room.

I made a quiet noise of disgust. Honestly, those boys needed to grow up. Granger was the only one who noticed my annoyance and sat on my bed next to me. I shifted away from her slightly. Muggles didn’t have the same personal boundaries as Purebloods meaning that Granger often made me uncomfortable with her over-familiarness. Had it been anyone else I would have said something but I was still worried that if I said anything against her then we would fight again.

“What’s a Wizard’s Duel?” she asked, quietly.

“It’s a fight between two wizards as a way of settling disputes. It’s an old Pureblood tradition and usually is a fight to the death unless agreed otherwise. Then it’s only until one is unable to fight on. That’s when the second takes over to fight for the honour of their fallen comrade. Although, most look down on a duel if the second _does_ step in. It’s seen as more respectful to yield to the victor in their comrade’s place,” I explained.

Granger looked horrified.

“They won’t be having a proper Wizard’s Duel. Neither of them know enough spells for that,” I reassured her, hastily. “Knowing them, it will be more of a Muggle’s Duel than a Wizard’s Duel.”

“Muggle’s –”

“They’ll hit other with their fists rather than their spells. Like Muggles do.”

Considering how smart Granger was in class it was easy to forget how little she knew about the wizarding world. She was more intelligent than the Purebloods in our year and likely the year above us too and yet her general knowledge was frighteningly low.

“We should tell Professor McGonagall,” said Granger.

“No, we shouldn’t.”

“But –”

“Leave them to it. If they want to waste their night shooting sparks at one another then let them. Besides, respectable wizards don’t go running to tell tales. They either let it be or sort it themselves.”

“But –”

“That’s why Draco targeted Longbottom today. Because he told Professor McGonagall. Don’t make yourself a target. Let them be.” I pulled the ribbon out my hair and tied it loosely around my wrist. “Besides, chances are they’ll get caught by Filch.”

Granger didn’t seem convinced but went to her own bed when I busied myself with my hair. I had been trying to figure out a way to keep the shorter baby hair at the front of my face out of the way. Whereas the rest of my hair fell nearly to my waist, the few shorter stands barely made it past my mouth and wouldn’t reach to be included in my usual braid.

“Why don’t you use a French braid?” suggested Granger.

“A what?”

Granger surprised me by spending the next half hour happily playing with my hair. First, she did a French braid, then she tried a fishtail braid. It looked horrible but Granger wasn’t sure she had done it correctly so maybe that was why. Granger told me how her mother would spend hours pulling her hair into lots of small braids and when she was younger would weave small, colourful beads into the braids. I asked why she didn’t wear her hair like it any longer. Granger shrugged and said how she didn’t want to stand out too much.

“You should do it,” I said. “If you teach me how, I can help you with it.”

Granger beamed and nodded. “You’re sure no one will comment?”

“Of course not. It’s just braids. I wear them and so do a lot of purebloods.”

We chatted for a little longer. Me carefully braiding Granger’s bushy hair under her instruction. Granger telling me more about her family. I liked the sound of her mother and she obviously thought very highly of the woman. Her father was mentioned less but when she did talk about him she always sounded proud. I skilfully avoided any questions Granger had about my own family. I did, however, let slip that I lived with Draco but refused to elaborate. She didn’t push as much as I had expected and we said goodnight not long after.

 

I was woken up by the creak of the door. Annoyed I sat up and peeked around the bed curtains to see who had decided that going for a midnight walk was a good idea.

Granger.

I cursed under my breath as I grabbed my dressing gown and slippers before following her downstairs. The portrait leading out of the common room closed as I rounded the corner on the stairs. I debated for a second following them before deciding against it. Granger could handle herself and I didn’t care much for Potter and Weasley. Besides if they got caught it would teach the boys to stop being so stupid and Granger to stop poking her nose in things.

Slowly, I made my way back upstairs. I had only climbed a few steps, however, when my vision seemed to blur and tip sideways. I grabbed the wall to steady myself and tried to catch my breath. Not good. The last time this had happened I ended up in St Mungos for a week. The world spun again slightly as I tried to take another step upwards.

Alright, then, I wasn’t going back to bed.

I was going to sit down and wait for the dizziness to pass before heading to the Hospital Wing. That’s what Madam Pomfrey told me to do.

Although –

It _was_ nearly midnight.

I considered just going to bed and going to see her in the morning instead.

Then again –

The feeling of nausea was slowly growing and sweat was beginning to gather on my forehead.

I forced myself to my feet and across the common room. I could do it. It wasn’t the first time. I had lasted days like this before until anyone noticed, and that was only because I’d passed out at the dinner table. Aunt Cissa had been torn between concern and anger at me for having stained the carpet with the food I knocked off the table as I fell.


	10. 2,243 Days Remaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, here's this weeks chapter. A quick notice for next week: as the next two chapters are going to be short once again, I plan on updating TWICE on WEDNESDAY, as usual, and on SATURDAY. I would love to hear what you think about this story, as any feedback is much appreciated. Also if you have any questions about ANYTHING to do with this story then feel free to leave a review or message me. With that said, sit back, and enjoy.

The walk to the Hospital Wing was notably scarier in the dark when every step was accompanied by the fear of running into Filch, Mrs Norris (Filch’s horrible cat), Peeves or a patrolling teacher. Then again, maybe running into a teacher wouldn’t have been too bad. Unless it was Professor Snape. I had no doubts that he would drag me to his office, lecture me, then drag me to Professor McGonagall’s office, lecture me again, and only _then_ accompany me to the Hospital Wing as an afterthought.

For the first time, I skipped knocking and went straight into the Hospital Wing. The Fat Friar, Hufflepuff’s House Ghost, looked up at me as I stopped in the doorway.

“Is everything alright, little one?” he asked, gently.

“Madam Pomfrey said to come if I ever feel ill and –” I stumbled slightly as I stepped forward.

The room wobbled dangerously.

The Fat Friar reached out as if to catch me. “Take a bed. I’ll fetch Madam Pomfrey.”

He disappeared up the spiral stairs before I could respond. I fell backwards onto the nearest bed and shut my eyes. Sweat felt like it was pouring off me and bile rose in my throat. I took deep breaths, willing myself not to be sick and for the dizziness to stop.

“Miss Black?”

I jumped slightly as a light hand rested itself on my forehead. It took more effort than I expected to open my eyes. Madam Pomfrey was stood over me, checking my temperature.

“Do you feel sick? Shaky? Weak?”

I nodded yes to each one.

“I need you to sit up,” said Madam Pomfrey.

She helped me sit up and prop myself against the headboard. It was then that I saw what was on the bedside table. I almost groaned. This was going to sting.

Madam Pomfrey picked up a small scalpel and gently took my right hand. I braced myself for the sting as she made a small cut across my middle finger. Years ago, I had asked a Healer why they didn’t just use magic so it wouldn’t hurt. He had laughed and smiled before telling me that cuts using magic were more likely to scar as it could sometimes be difficult to get all the foreign magic out of the wound. His laughing stopped when Uncle Lucius snapped at him to just get on with it. I hadn’t really understood what the Healer had meant and still didn’t when Madam Pomfrey let a few drops of my blood mix with the potion.

I watched as Madam Pomfrey left the potion on the bedside table to mix and applied a small amount of paste to my finger. The bleeding had already stopped and the paste would help the cut to heal instantly without leaving a mark.

“What did you have for breakfast?” asked Madam Pomfrey as she opened a folder with my name on it.

“Porridge and a slice of toast.”

She wrote that down before asking about my lunch.

I froze as I remembered. “I didn’t.”

Madam Pomfrey looked up at me, sharply. “Miss Black –”

“I know. I’m sorry. But we had our first flying lesson after lunch and I was nervous and couldn’t eat.”

“Dinner?”

I had expected a scolding but, unwilling to push my luck, I answered.

A few more notes were written down and the potion checked. Low blood sugar. Madam Pomfrey and I already knew that but it still felt shameful to see the proof.

I should have been able to look after myself, I thought miserably as I drunk the potion which had been shoved into my hands.

Once the potion was gone, Madam Pomfrey cleared the bedside table with a flick of her wand and ordered me to sleep before drawing the curtains around my bed. Exhausted, I kicked off my slippers and crawled under the covers, dressing gown still on. I shivered and burrowed deeper, willing my body to warm up.

My last few thoughts before I drifted off were whether Granger, Potter and Weasley had been caught and what Granger would think when she got back and I wasn’t there. Would she notice straight away or would it be morning when she realised?

 

Madam Pomfrey deemed me unfit for lessons the next morning and insisted that I stay in the Hospital Wing another night so she could check my blood sugar levels throughout the day. I started to argue that I would be fine but she walked away, leaving me to gape after her. Being yelled at and occasionally threatened when I argued back, I was used to. Being ignored felt strange. It worked and I grumpily answered Madam Pomfrey’s questions about my diet and sleeping. She wasn’t happy when I revealed how badly I had been sleeping and promised some potions to help.

My morning was peaceful, if a little dull. Madam Pomfrey brought me a few books from her shelves upstairs that I flicked through. Lunch was a relief. I was halfway through a bowl of tomato soup when Granger peeked her head around the door. She visibly relaxed when she noticed me and silently entered when I waved her forward.

“Hi,” she said, nervously.

“What happened last night?” I demanded. “Did you get caught?”

“Um –”

I indicated for Granger to sit on the bed. “Madam Pomfrey is upstairs in her office. Besides she won’t tell you off for being here.”

“Right, well, I followed Harry and Ron outside where we found Neville – he had been shut out of the common room, forgotten the password again – and I was going to go back into the common room but the Fat Lady wasn’t there so I went with the boys to the trophy room but Malfoy never showed – we were there for ages – so we were going to head back to the Common Room thinking surely the Fat Lady would have returned but Mrs Norris was there so we had to run from her and Filch and we didn’t realise where we were until it was too late, but we were in the third floor corridor – the one we aren’t meant to go into – and we found a locked door but we were desperate – I couldn’t bear to be caught breaking the rules – so I cast _alohamora_ and unlocked the door so we went in and hid but Merlin’s beard, Sage, you won’t believe it but there was a massive three-headed dog and we only just got away from it. I mean honestly, that creature could have killed us and if it had it would have been entirely Harry and Ron’s fault! Being so reckless like that!”

Granger spoke so fast I had to stop eating so I could concentrate enough to keep up. “I’m sure the dog wouldn’t have killed you. Maimed you beyond recognition, maybe, but people do survive that sort thing. Occasionally.”

“Sage, this is serious,” Granger huffed.

I grinned at her. “You’re all alive though, right?”

Granger nodded.

“Then don’t worry. Think of it as a story to tell when you get back home.”

“I doubt my parents would let me come back if they knew.”

“Maybe change the over-sized three-headed dog into something a little less scary. Like a rabbit?” I said, trying not to giggle.

Granger laughed.

“What are you two laughing at?” asked a familiar, unexpected voice.

“Rabbits,” I replied, gathering the last of my soup on the spoon.

Caleb gave me a look before turning on Granger.

“Would you mind leaving my sister and I alone to talk?” He smiled politely but I could see the disgust in his eyes. Caleb hated Muggle-Borns just as much as Draco, he was just a lot better at hiding it and subtler in his rudeness.

“S-sure,” stuttered Granger. “I’ll leave your homework here and stop by later?”

“Sure, see you later.” I smiled a real smile, unlike Caleb.

Neither of us said anything until after the doors had closed behind Granger.

“This came for you today.” Caleb held out a letter addressed to me as he sat on the bed. “I assume Madam Pomfrey wrote a letter to Aunt Cissa and Uncle Lucius last night. They also sent me one to remind me that I’m meant to be looking out for you.”

I opened my letter. “Well you are seven minutes older than me. It’s all part of the big brother duties,” I teased, lightly.

The letter was nothing more than a get well soon message and a brief scolding for not being more careful. I tossed it aside after reading it.

“How are your classes going?” asked Caleb.

It was my turn to give him a look.

Caleb grinned at me, showing his teeth. “What? Not in the mood for small talk?”

“Did you hear what Draco did last night?”

“No.”

I told him.

Caleb’s face darkened. “Little weasel. Ratting someone out like that.” He shook his head. “He’ll never get any respect acting like that.”

“He has Crabbe and Goyle,” I reminded him.

He snorted. “They only follow him around because no-one else is dumb enough to stand him.”

“Parkinson.”

“So you think she’s smart, now?”

“No, not really.”

Caleb chuckled. “I already scolded Draco for what he did in your flying lesson yesterday. Honestly, does he want to get expelled?”

I shrugged. “He wants to go to Durmstrung.”

“Idiot.”

“That’s what I told him.”

“So why was a Muggle-Born sat at your bedside?”

I’d been waiting for that. “She’s my friend.”

“You need better friends.”

“Cay –”

“I’m not trying to be mean but she doesn’t know our ways, Sage. She doesn’t know how the Wizarding World works let alone how Pureblood society does. Merlin knows it’s hard enough to be friends with purebloods outside of our social circle let alone Half-Bloods and Muggle-Borns.”

“Celia isn’t in our social circle and she and I get on fine,” I pointed out.

Caleb nodded. “For now. But what about when something happens? She’s not going to be there for you. Not in the way someone like Parkinson or Greengrass could be.”

“I thought we’d already agreed that Parkinson is an idiot.”

“We did, now stop avoiding the point,” Caleb scolded, lightly. “This Muggle-Born and Carrow don’t understand or know enough about us to make good friends.”

“Then I’ll teach them,” I argued. “That’s what Muggles do. They don’t know a thing about one another when they first meet, not even a mutual person, and they can still be lifelong friends!”

Caleb narrowed his eyes at me.

I glared back.

An angry tick started in Caleb’s jaw as he fought not to yell at me. It wasn’t worth the trouble he would get into should Madam Pomfrey hear.

“Maybe you are too oblivious to notice, Sage, but we are not _Muggles_.” He spat the last word, like it had a bad taste to it.

I rolled my eyes at his over-reaction. “Really? Well that throws me, then. Do tell me. Maybe we’re unicorns?”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re being mean.”

“I’m just keeping my promise by looking out for you. I would hate to have to write home with my concerns.” Caleb’s smile turned mocking.

“Don’t. You. Dare.”

“I’m your big brother, therefore I know what is best for you.” Caleb stood to leave. “You should listen to me more often; I’m just trying to keep you safe.”

“No, you are trying to control me. Which, by the way, is not going to happen.”

Caleb rolled his eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. I’m looking out for you. Draco has been talking about writing home about your Muggle-Born friend. I’m just prewarning you so you can make the right choice, dump the Muggle-Born and stay out of trouble with Uncle Lucius.”

“Thank you for the advice, but I can look after myself.”

My glare intensified as Caleb looked me over. I was still in my night gown, the duvet pulled up to my waist and I didn’t even what to think about the state of my hair.

“You sure about that?”

I threw a pillow at him. “Don’t you have a lesson to go to?”

“Not until half two. Maybe I could stay a little longer?”

“Please don’t.”

Caleb faked a look of hurt. “We’ve barely spoken since we got here and now you’re kicking me out? I’m hurt.”

“Well, I suppose if you were to get the chess set from Madam Pomfrey’s office then I could be willing to put up with you for a little while longer,” I said, smiling sweetly.

He nodded and headed up the stairs. I listened to the voices upstairs. Caleb had spent about three weeks in the Hospital Wing last year with the flu. Normally, Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t have kept a student that long but Caleb was known for having a weak immune system and it had seemed safer to keep him under quarantine for a while. Apparently, Caleb had wormed his way into Madam Pomfrey’s good books.

 

Despite having the chess board set up, Caleb and I spent more time catching up than we did actually playing. I was surprised to learn that Caleb also disliked Professor Snape. When I asked why, he shrugged saying that Snape was cruel to those who couldn’t take it.

There was a lot about Caleb that I disliked but his strong hatred to those who targeted anyone weaker than themselves wasn’t one of them. More than once, my brother had been in trouble for defending the younger children at Solstice parties when the older ones had starting picking on them. I’d asked him why it annoyed him so much and he just looked at me as if I should already know the answer.

“ _I don’t like people like that because it isn’t fair. Where is the achievement in hitting someone who’s already down? Or kicking someone when a flick will cause them to topple on its own? If you’re going to target someone they should either be your equal or at least strong enough to take the blows. If not then you’re just being needlessly cruel. Surely you understand that?”_

I did understand. People didn’t like Caleb and I. Wizarding twins weren’t much of a rarity. The Weasley and Patil twins were evidence of that. Nearly everyone knew a set of identical twins. Non-identical, not so much. They were impossible. That’s what everyone always said. It was impossible for a mother to carry fraternal twins to full term. Most mothers would miscarriage one or both babies. The rest would die during an early childbirth, alongside at least one of the babies. And the worst part? No-one understood why. Muggles could have non-identical twins so why couldn’t Witches? It didn’t matter what happened, it was impossible for fraternal twins to be carried to full term.

Unless you were Caleb and I.

No-one really knew how we were still alive. There had been mutterings that maybe our father had done something. Forced our mother to take so many potions they affected her mental state.

Others said that our father had used forbidden and ancient magic to call on demons to bargain that we both survive and that demons had claimed Caleb and I as their own. That was one of the sillier theories and yet it seemed to be the one I heard most often.

The midwife had suggested that it was just luck. We were lucky. Lucky to be born. Lucky to be alive. Lucky to _still_ be alive.

To begin with, the Healers had warned that one of us wouldn’t survive a month. That one being Caleb. Surprisingly, I had been the strong one, the bigger newborn, and therefore, the one that the nursemaids forgot. During the first few months, so much attention was put on Caleb to ensure his survival that I was often neglected.

It was Lyam who remembered me. It was Lyam who bottle fed me and burped me and gave me a bath every night. It was Lyam who had fought to take me home when we lost our parents. It was Lyam who lost me when the Ministry declared I would live with the Malfoys as they were my family by blood. It was Lyam who always remembered my birthdays and complimented my drawings and taught me to read and write.

Lyam couldn’t do everything though.

Nothing could have protected Caleb and I from the whispers which followed us since the first time we left our family home. The insults people would mutter in our direction. The reluctance parents showed when their children wanted to talk to us. The hateful looks people would throw our way. The blame they put on us for something _we_ _didn’t do_.

So, I did understand why Caleb hated people who preyed on those who couldn’t fight back. Because, for years, that was us. We were lucky. We had each other. We fought for each other just as much as we fought against each other. If you insulted one of us, you insulted both of us. We learnt to fight back because we had to.

We shouldn’t have had to. That’s what Caleb believes.

I understand why he thinks what he does but I disagree. Why shouldn’t everyone else have to go through a fraction of the hatred we went through? I rarely pulled my punches or softened my tongue. If I could survive worse, then so could everyone else and if not then that wasn’t my problem.

 

Celia visited briefly after her Herbology lesson, having been excused early by Professor Sprout, her Head of House. We chatted for a few minutes before she was shooed away by Madam Pomfrey for not being in lesson.

As promised Granger visited at the start of dinner, a plate of food in hand. She told me how Professor McGonagall had approached her and told her to take a plate to the Hospital Wing so we could eat together. I smiled. Despite having skipped her first lesson, I liked Professor McGonagall. She was strict but fair and seemed to genuinely care about her students. Every Gyffindor had been told her office hours but according to the older students Professor McGonagall’s office was always open, even during lessons, which I found difficult to believe.

Having heard Granger arrive, Madam Pomfrey gave me my dinner a little early, telling me sternly that I was not, under any circumstances, to share a crumb with Granger.

After we had both finished Granger insisted on helping me catch up with my missed work. I tried to tell her I was too ill to work but she didn’t believe me. It wasn’t too bad, I mainly helped her with the Magical Theory stuff and then she explained the potion Professor Snape had them make.

Granger had just pulled out a stack of books to help with homework (apparently if I couldn’t go to the library, Granger was willing to bring the library to me) when Caleb walked in holding a covered plate.

“Don’t tell me you got permission to eat with me too?” I said.

Caleb scrunched his nose. “I have to eat with you at home, why in the world would I want to do that at Hogwarts too?”

I wanted to throw a book at him but I had a feeling Granger or Madam Pomfrey would disapprove.

“Then what’s on the plate?”

“I went down to the kitchens after dinner and asked them to make you a little something.” Caleb sat on the other side of me, away from Granger who was trying to disappear inside a potions book.

“What’s on the plate?” I repeated.

Caleb removed the cloth with a dramatic _swoosh_. “Jam on toast.”

“Strawberry?”

“Only because you’re ill.”

I grabbed for the plate and happily took a bite, savouring the sweet taste of strawberry jam.

“Did I ever mention that you are my favourite brother?”

Caleb laughed. “Not really much of a competition though, is it?”

“Not his fault,” I mumble through my toast.

“You have another brother?” asked Granger.

I jumped, having forgotten she was there. Caleb glared at the younger girl before abruptly standing up.

“Sleep well, Sage, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” Caleb gently placed his left hand on my right and briefly pressed his forehead to mine.

“See you tomorrow, Cay.”

Granger waited until he had left before repeating her question.

“He doesn’t talk to us. Hasn’t for years,” I said.

“I’m sorry.”

I nodded, stiffly. I didn’t want to talk about _him_. “So, Potions homework?”

That got Granger going again as she read a passage from her book which she thought could be useful in the essay. Although how a fact about unicorn blood would help us in an essay about the properties of various cauldron types was beyond even my intelligence.


	11. 2,237 Days Remaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, running a little late posting this chapter today, sorry about that - unfortunately essays have to come first. Anyway, here's Hermione's birthday chapter! Let me know what you think of Sage's present for her and don't forget there will be an extra update this week on SATURDAY. Sit back, and enjoy!

Granger received a large pile of post at breakfast. I felt horribly guilt when she told me that it was her birthday. She’d briefly mentioned it during our first week at Hogwarts but I’d completely forgotten. She insisted that it didn’t bother her and she appreciated me just wishing her ‘happy birthday’.

Not believing her, I flipped through my sketchbook late in the day. Granger had commented on my drawing of the squid peeking over the lake watching us as we sat in the shade of nearby trees. Luckily, I’d finished it the night before, using pencil to colour it. It wasn’t much but I had a feeling she would appreciate it all the same. Merlin knew, she’d asked me to draw something for her enough times.

I gave the picture to Granger at lunch. It wasn’t much, just a drawing on a scrappy piece of paper. She didn’t mind and beamed when she saw it, giving me an excited hug and gleefully told me about the presents her family had sent, explaining the more Muggle of them to me.

It was also the day that Granger joined me in flying around the Quidditch pitch. We were low to the ground and going slow but she was happy none-the-less so I didn’t complain.


	12. 2,233 Days Remaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, so here's the second chapter for this week. Coming up next WEDNESDAY is the big Halloween chapter, here's hoping you're all looking forward to that, but for now, sit back, and enjoy!

“He got sent a broom!”

“You mentioned.”

“I can’t believe this! They’re practically rewarding his breaking the rules!”

“So you said.”

“I should have told Professor McGonagall about that Wizard’s Duel last week!”

“Yeah, sure.”

“And Ron is just insufferable! He’s always saying mean things to me and calling me a know-it-all! It’s his own fault that he never reads and does badly in class!”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

“Are you actually listening?”

“You’re completely right.”

“Sage.”

“Hmm? Well it _is_ the third time we’ve had this conversation today. Can we just eat in peace? Please?”

“But –”

“Is that a fruit cake? Pass me a slice, would you?”

 


	13. 2,195 Days Remaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, back to a regular length chapter again this week. Although next WEDNESDAY will be a short chapter, therefore there will be an extra update next week. But for now, here's my absolute favourite chapter from the book - Halloween. Sit back, and enjoy!

Hallows Eve to Muggles, I learnt, was very different to what it was to Purebloods. Whereas Muggles used it as a day to dress up and eat sweets and scare one another, Purebloods used it as a day to celebrate the dead. A day of remembrance. According to stories, Hallows Eve marked the day when the veil between the living and dead stood at its thinnest making it important to spend the day thinking about lost family and thanking the Fates for life.

Caleb, Draco and I were always just glad to get a day off school.

Not at Hogwarts.

To my surprise, lessons continued as a feast was prepared for the evening. The smell of pumpkin and sweet things lingered in the corridors and was swept into classrooms by moving students. Nearly everyone was talking about the feast, even the Purebloods had caught on to the excitement.

A few, like Caleb and Draco, tried their best to remain grim during the day, wearing the traditional mourning black, but I caught them both grinning and chatting excitedly about pumpkin pie at lunch.

The excitement only increased at the sight of streamers of varying shades of orange twisting and knotting through the air of the Great Hall at lunch. A few pumpkins had been placed along the tables and were floating among the streamers all with different faces carved into them. I was fascinated by them. It was so different from the grim celebrations back home. No horrible family members talking about their upcoming passing and reciting memories about those I never met (and considering some of the stories, was glad I never met). No fasting during the day in preparation for a bland meal at midnight. No harsh scolding for daring to crack a smile or seem somewhat happy.

I preferred Halloween at Hogwarts and, in turn, Muggle Halloween.

 

Charms didn’t help the excitement when Professor Flitwick announced we would be practising the Levitation Spell. The excitement was barely dinted when Professor Flitwick chose the pairs we would be working in. Until he got to me. I was still fighting a smile over the fact Granger was paired with Weasley when Flitwick put me with Longbottom.

What were the chances I could get sent out with a mysterious and sudden illness? Considering Madam Pomfrey knew me so well, none.

Not only was he useless at anything involving a wand, or a broom or, well, just about anything, to be honest, but Longbottom was still shooting me distrustful looks whenever I was in the same room. I insisted he took the first go at levitating his feather, worried that he might wet himself if I pulled out my wand. He jumped slightly when I shifted in my seat.

Merlin’s beard, it was painful to watch.

Longbottom did about as well as expected, meaning he waved his wand blindly and stumbled over the spell so badly it was barely recognisable and the feather stayed stubbornly on the table. I considered blowing it off the table. It might give him a confidence boost. Or he might have thought I was mocking him. Which would never have been my intentions, of course.

A quick glance around the room confirmed that no-one else was doing any better. Potter was smothering flames and Weasley was being lectured by Granger. Fighting a smile again, I forced myself to focus on Longbottom and offered some half-hearted advice. He looked terrified and muttered something that sounded like an apology. I nearly banged my head when he went back to doing the exact same as before.

Granger was the first to make her feather levitate and I, fed up of Longbottom being stupid, easily got my own to join it. Within minutes we were carefully guiding the two feathers to dance around one another through the air, twirling around students and across the room before zooming back to the opposite end of the room. Professor Flitwick gave us 10 points each.

The end of the lesson was the normal stampede of students practically climbing over each other to leave. I hung back with Granger as she asked Professor Flitwick question after question about our next homework assignment, meaning we were the last to leave.

“No one can stand her,” said Weasley, who, with Potter, was only a little way ahead of us, loud enough that we could hear. Granger and I shared a look. “She’s a nightmare, honestly.”

Granger’s face crumpled and tears shined in her eyes.

I tried to call after her but she hurried forwards before I could say anything.

“I think she heard you.” Potter told Weasley.

Anger boiled up.

“I think the whole bloody corridor heard you,” I hissed at Weasley. Both boys turned to face me, mixed looks of discomfort and horror on their faces.

“So? She must’ve noticed she’s got no friends.”

“Because you two have spoken to her enough to know that?” I said. “Oh, wait, no. You two are always so busy trying to drag her down that I doubt you’ve even noticed the most obvious thing about her!”

“That’s not fair-!” Potter tried to argue.

“Why, because everyone here worships the ground you walk on so you can’t possibly do wrong? You’re just a spoilt brat. But I’ll tell you this, Hermione Granger is worth more than both of you put together!”

I shoved past them both and followed Granger before either boy could say anything.

 

Thinking back, I should have known that Granger was nearly as stubborn as me. I’d found her hiding in the ground floor girls’ toilets. Patil had come in at one point and tried to get Granger to come out. She was about as successful as me, meaning Granger was still locked in a cubicle when I chased her away. I couldn’t understand why she cared, her and Brown had never been overly friendly with Granger and I, and yet she seemed genuinely concerned over Granger distress.

Two faced flobberworms.

“Granger, come out of there already!” I yelled. “We’ve been in here for over four hours! Weasley and Potter are idiots and jealous that you’re smarter!”

“They’re right – _sob_ – though – _sob_ – no-one likes me – _sob_ – here.”

“Granger if I didn’t like you I would be in the Great Hall enjoying a lovely feast, which, by the way, we are currently missing. Instead I am sat on a freezing floor trying to convince you to stop hugging a toilet and grow up!”

The toilet door banged open and I turned around to scare off whoever had dared to walk in.

My blood ran cold as I backed up.

“Granger?”

“What?” Granger sobbed.

“Don’t come out of the cubicle.”

Stopped in front of the door was a twelve feet mountain troll, a heavy looking wooden club scraping along the floor. The smell coming off it was horrendous. I forced myself not to gag. I had to stay still. Trolls were stupid creatures. If I stayed still, then maybe it wouldn’t notice me. Maybe it would just leave again, deciding there was nothing of interest in front of it.

I hardly dared breath, worried my racing heart was loud enough to give me away.

Thankfully, after what seemed like hours, the troll started to turn around. I gave a silent thanks to the Fates for working in my favour.

 _Clunk_.

The Fates hated me.

Someone was on the other side of the door and had just locked the troll in the bathroom. Granger and I with it.

“Sage? What’s going on?” asked Granger.

I shushed her, hoping the troll hadn’t heard.

Too late.

It caught sight of me and stumbled forward, swinging its club above its head. I dove downwards, sliding between its legs as the club contacted the cubicles. The bang made my ears ring and I watched in horror as the separation walls started to crumble.

Granger screamed.

The troll roared.

Stupidly, I grabbed the nearest thing to me and hurled it at the troll before it could swing its club at Granger once more.

The troll ignored me, keeping its focus on Granger who had managed to scramble backwards to press herself against the far wall.

The first sink to be smashed by the troll’s club hit the floor so hard I thought the tiles might crack. I tried throwing something else, now on my feet. It hit the back of the troll’s head making it roar louder and quicken its advance.

Bad idea.

“Confuse it!”

I hadn’t noticed Potter and Weasley crash through the door, but was grateful for their help.

In response, Weasley threw a tap at the wall. It hit with a _clang_ loud enough to stop the troll.

“Spread out!” I shouted.

The more targets the troll had to choose from the more confused it would become.

It worked. First it started to lumber towards Potter before changing directions when Weasley shouted insults and curses at it. When it got too close to him I yelled at it from yet another direction.

I wasn’t paying Potter much attention. I vaguely noticed he had approached Granger and was seemingly trying to persuade her to move.

 _Good luck with that_ , I thought.

The troll’s club caught my shoulder, knocking me off my feet, into the wall. I hadn’t been paying attention and my shoulder was throbbing for it.

“Black!” shouted Weasley.

The troll roared again. All the noise was not only confusing it, but angering it too. Club raised, it started for Weasley, who was closest.

Weasley scrambled back until his back hit a wall. There was no where he could go.

Pounding feet came from Potter and Granger’s direction and I couldn’t believe it when Potter wrapped his arms around the troll’s thick neck. Even more surprisingly was Potter’s wand, which had somehow become lodged up the troll’s nose.

Furious, the troll started shaking and swinging its club wildly, trying to shake Potter off its back.

I scrambled for my wand, not sure what I could do but determined to do _something_!

“Wingardium Leviosa!” Weasley yelled, pointing his wand at the troll.

The Fates truly did seem to hate me.

Or maybe not.

The club flew out of the troll’s hand and rose so high it nearly touched the ceiling.

“Potter jump!” I screamed a warning, already guessing what would happen.

Potter’s feet touched the ground just as the club hit the troll’s head, with a painful _crack_. The troll wobbled on its feet for a few seconds before collapsing forwards, between Weasley and I.

Nobody moved.

I kept my eyes fixed on the troll, half convinced it would let out another roar and jump back up again, ready to start swinging its club.

“Is it – dead?” asked Hermione, quietly.

I shook my head. “I don’t think so, just unconscious.”

Potter met my eyes and nodded before going to gather his wand.

Weasley walked to join him but seemed to change his mind, instead coming in my direction. With an almost embarrassed smile, he offered me a hand. I took it and let him help me to my feet.

The door slammed open and my hand flew to my wand, scared it would be a second troll.

It was worse.

With all the noise, I should have realised that the teachers would hear and come immediately to investigate. Professors McGonagall, Snape and Quirrell burst into the room, slamming the door against the wall. I winced, my ears still hurting from the troll’s smashing.

Professor Snape went straight for the troll while Quirrell seemed to be trying not to faint. I wondered again how he was qualified to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts. Professor McGonagall was furious. Her glare went from Potter to Weasley to me and back again, as if she were trying to decide which of us to scold first.

“What on earth were you thinking of?” She didn’t shout at us. She didn’t need to. The icy fury in her voice was enough to make anyone nervous, even Quirrell judging by his expression.

Potter and Weasley looked at each other, both still with their wands in hand.

“You’re lucky you weren’t killed. Why weren’t you in your dormitories?” Professor McGonagall demanded.

I bit my lip. I could have told her the truth but that would mean telling her what Weasley had said earlier and considering he had just saved our lives, it felt wrong to get him into trouble.

“Please, Professor McGonagall – they were looking for me.” Hermione was stood, leaning shakily against the only remaining sink.

“Miss Granger!”

“I went looking for the troll because I – I thought I could deal with it on my own – you know, because I’ve read all about them. If they hadn’t found me, I’d be dead now. Sage confused the troll so Harry could stick his wand up its nose and Ron could knock it out with its own club. They didn’t have time to come and fetch anyone, it was about to finish me off when they arrived.”

I easily hid my shock at Hermione’s lies. Potter and Weasley just about managed to look only a little surprised.

“Well – in that case…” Professor McGonagall didn’t believe a word of it as she looked between the four of us. “Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?”

Hermione hung her head.

“Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this,” said Professor McGonagall. “I’m very disappointed in you. If you’re not hurt at all, you’d better get off to Gryffindor Tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses.”

Hermione left, giving me a guilty look as she hurried by.

I braced myself for the scolding Professor McGonagall had in line for the boys and me.

“Well, I still say you are lucky, but not many first-years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. Mr Potter, Mr Weasly, you may go. Miss Black, I will escort you to the Hospital Wing.”

 

I wasn’t long in the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey easily healed the bruising and cuts on my shoulder and checked the bone, which was fine. I left with strict orders to get some dinner before I was ill again and that was that.

 

The common room had started to empty by the time I got there. Food was piled on tables. Most of it was gone, but there was still more than enough to feed me. I filled my plate and curiously headed towards Hermione, who was sat in front of the sofas in our usual spot. Either side of her was Potter and Weasley. The three were getting on better than I thought possible.

Hermione beamed up at me as I approached. “Sage! How’s your shoulder? Are you ok?”

I shrugged, settling on the floor, my plate balanced on my lap. “Just a little bruised, Madam Pomfrey fixed it in seconds.”

Weasley cleared his throat.

I raised my eyebrow at him, waiting.

“I’m sorry for the things I’ve said to you,” he said.

I smirked. “Apology accepted.” I turned to Potter. “I’m sorry for being so harsh on you earlier. You did well against the mountain troll.”

“It’s ok,” muttered Potter, ruffling his hair at the back, nervously.

We sat in awkward silence for a few minutes before I finally spoke up asking about lessons Hermione and I missed that afternoon.

Weasley groaned and flopped back against the sofa. Potter laughed and Hermione insisted they told us everything.

By the time I finished eating, Weasley and I were half way through telling Potter about the last Quidditch World Cup. Hermione was shaking her head at us, claiming she didn’t understand the appeal, but I was convinced she was just as interested as Potter.


	14. 2,186 Days Remaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, first off a massive apology for having left this story for so long. The end of semester is coming up and university essays have been piling up (two more weeks until freedom!). Secondly, I'm planning to post again on SATURDAY as this chapter is so short and after that hope to return to my regular weekly WEDNESDAY updates. With all that said, sorry again for the delay, sit back and enjoy!

In the week leading up to the first Quidditch match, the weather took an abrupt turn to freezing and by Thursday Brown and Patil, Hermione, and I were more thankful than ever for the small furnace in the centre of the room and the extra blankets left folded on our chests. The rest of the castle wasn’t much warmer. Despite the lit fireplaces and torches burning along every corridor, a permanent chill had settled in the air. The classrooms were better as the teachers made sure the grates were lit and the windows securely fastened to keep out the wind. The dungeons were an exception, of course. Snape had kept the potions classroom at the same cool temperature which, whilst a blessing in September when the summer heat was still lingering, left us desperately trying to keep our hands warm by our cauldrons during the winter months.

Despite our new-found acquaintanceship, I avoided Potter and Weasley as much as possible following the troll incident. Potter, admittedly, wasn’t half as bad as I expected and Weasley was decent company on occasion. But the more time I spent with them the more I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. I was lying to them and it felt wrong.

At first, I had assumed Weasley knew who I was, but he proved me wrong when conversation turned to our family and he was just as clueless as Potter and Hermione about my parents. My parents were a topic I was determined to avoid for as long as possible. With any luck, a topic I hoped to avoid for the next seven years.


	15. 2,185 Days Remaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, this chapter was both so much fun and so hard to write so I hope it came out alright. Let me know in a review! The next update will be WEDNESDAY as usual. Sit back, and enjoy!

Friday, the day before Potter’s first quidditch match, was the first time I sat with Hermione, Potter and Weasley at breakfast. The Great Hall was crowded but, thankfully, most of the first year Gryffindors had already left. They didn’t like me much so I avoided eating with them as much as possible. They liked Potter and always sat with him. Therefore, I avoided Potter.

He was in the middle of telling Hermione and I how he knew Hagrid, Hogwarts’ Keeper of Keys, when Caleb slid onto the bench beside me. I ignored him and, when Potter nearly stopped talking, told him to do the same. Granger kept shooting worried glances between Caleb and I, whilst Weasley glared openly at my brother, getting angrier by the second.

“What do _you_ want?” demanded Weasley, when Caleb still hadn’t moved a few minutes later.

A couple of students turned to watch us. I scared them away with a few well-placed glares.

Caleb smiled pleasantly. “Just checking up on my little sister. Do you have a problem with that, Weasley?”

Weasley’s eyes went wide before narrowing at me accusingly. “You have a brother?”

“Yes,” I said defensively. “Potter, Weasley meet Caleb. Caleb meet Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.”

Caleb’s smile widened ever so slightly. I tensed. He was going to do something. Or he already had.

“So, it’s true then, you and Potter are friends,” said Caleb, sweetly. He turned to Potter. “Tell me Potter, does it really not bother you, being friends with my little sister?”

“Caleb,” I hissed.

“Why would it bother me?” said Potter, who was now also openly glaring at Caleb.

Caleb’s eyes lit up in amusement. “Because our father killed your parents of course.”

I didn’t stop to see or hear the reactions of Hermione, Weasley and, most importantly, Potter. I knew what they must be thinking about me.

Disgusting.

Evil.

Wrong.

Anger clouded my vision and burned in my veins as I stormed from the Great Hall. I wanted to hit something. To break something. I wanted to pick up the most fragile thing I could find and throw it against a wall and watch it shatter. I wanted to punch a wall until my fists bled. I wanted to rip out my hair and scream in frustration. I wanted to screech abuse at the next person who dared to talk to me and make them feel so small and insignificant they would fall apart in front of me.

I wanted to cry.

I didn’t cry.

_‘Crying is weakness, girl. You want people to treat you like more than a baby then act like one and don’t you dare cry. Adults don’t cry. Purebloods don’t cry. So, don’t you dare.’_

My Grandfather’s words echoed in my head, louder and louder until I was sprinting down unfamiliar corridors, trying to make his voice just _go away_!

I didn’t stop running until I reached the top of the Astronomy Tower. Breathing hard I sunk to the floor and hugged my knees to my chest. Shame washed away what little anger I hadn’t lost whilst running. They would hate me now. I lied to them and now they knew the truth. They knew that _he_ was my father. I didn’t even let myself think the name. Not out of fear like most, but because it had been so long since I had acknowledged my father.

I hugged my knees in tighter and placed my head on them, curling into a protective ball as if it would undo Caleb’s words.

 

The Astronomy Tower wasn’t my hiding place for very long. Having decided I wouldn’t be attending any lessons that day (Magical Theory was useless and I disliked Professor Snape) I went instead to find an empty classroom, knowing that once lunch arrived I would be found if I went to Gryffindor Tower. It didn’t take long to find an abandoned room to hide in. Hogwarts had plenty of spare rooms, some that looked as if they had never been used. Others were filled with old tables and chairs, dusty books, broken quills and ink bottles and piles of rubbish. A few just looked abandoned. As if a class had just left one day and no-one ever returned. Books were still open on the tables and ink bottles were placed carefully in the correct place. There was even writing left on the chalkboards. Unsurprisingly, I found these rooms too unsettling to stay in. Instead, I went from room to room, looking through the rubbish which had been left for anything interesting.

It had been close to two hours by the time I found something that held my interest. I was in a nearly empty room with a few tables and chairs pushed against the walls, and what looked to be a mirror covered by a dirty cloth. I ignored the mirror in favour of the books piled atop what was once the teachers desk. The books were old and falling apart at the spines, their pages yellow with age and a musty smell clung to them.

Carefully, I peeled back the cover of the first one. The page was covered in runes. So was the next. And the next. And the next. I checked the book underneath. And the third. And the fourth and fifth and sixth and seventh. They were all full of runes. A few pages had what I at first assumed to be translations written in the margins, but turned out to be nothing more than vague guesses at _how_ to translate the runes.

I was shocked.

How could these books just be sat here?

Untranslated.

Unread.

 _I bet I could translate them_ , I thought, smugly.

Gently, unwilling to damage the already delicate books, I flicked through them, reading the notes and trying to recognise any of the runes. They were like nothing I had ever seen. I wondered how old they were. What if –

_BANG_

The books went tumbling to the ground as I whirled round at the loud noise. A cold wind whipped around the room. I cursed and went to close the window which had slammed open. As I passed the mirror, a corner of the fabric covering flew up.

I froze.

Something had moved in the mirror.

I stopped breathing and listened in fear of Filch or Mrs Norris or Peeves. Silently, I checked behind me. There was no-one there.

I looked back to the mirror. The wind had blown the fabric up even more, making it catch and reveal a large section of the mirror. There was definitely _something_ moving in it.

Having forgotten about the open window and the books, I cautiously approached the mirror. There was nothing I could think of that could possibly be trapped in a mirror, nor could I think of any stories about enchanted mirrors. Maybe it was cursed? No, not in a school. That would be dangerous and stupid.

The fabric felt dirty and rough in my hand. Not daring to breathe I pulled the cloth down to pool at my feet. So much dust flew off that I had to cover my eyes and mouth as I coughed.

“Miss Black!”

I looked over my shoulder, still coughing from inhaling too much dust. Professor McGonagall was stood in the doorway. She looked angry as she waved her wand, sending the fabric to cover the mirror once more.

“I thought I saw something move in the mirror, Professor,” I said.

Professor McGonagall’s mouth thinned to a tight line. “A reflection I’m sure. Now come along.”

“But –”

“Now, Miss Black.”

“Yes, Professor.”

 

Professor McGonagall’s office was nicer than I had expected. It was a fairly small room with a large fireplace taking up most of one wall. In front of the fireplace, arranged in a sociable circle were four armchairs. A shiny, wooden desk was pushed up against another wall, underneath a window with views of the grounds, and covered in papers. The other walls were covered in shelves full of books and picture frames and ornaments and a variety of magical objects, some of which I struggled to name.

Nervously, I took a seat near the fireplace.

“Tea?” Offered Professor McGonagall.

“I thought I was in trouble?”

Professor McGonagall’s lip twitched into an almost smile before returning to its hard line. “You are,” she confirmed. “Would you like a cup or not?”

Taken aback, I just nodded, too stunned to speak. If I was in trouble, then why wasn’t she yelling at me? Why had she told me to sit down in a comfortable armchair and why was offering me tea?

Despite my shock, I mumbled my thanks when handed a cup full of hot tea. A single sip warmed me up. I hadn’t realised I was cold.

“This is the second time you have failed to attend your lessons without a suitable reason, Miss Black,” said Professor McGonagall.

She was sat in the chair opposite me and looking at me sternly. I avoided her hard stare and instead looked down at my tea.

“Sorry, Professor.”

I looked up sharply at the noise of a tea cup being set down. Professor McGonagall’s expression hadn’t changed.

“Is there a particular reason as to why you decided not to attend lessons this morning?”

“No, Professor,” I said, careful to keep any emotion out of my voice.

My hand shook slightly. From anger or upset, I wasn’t sure.

“Miss Black –”

“Caleb told them,” I said suddenly. “Caleb told Hermione, Potter and Weasley who our father is. They hate me now.”

I had expected to be scolded but instead Professor McGonagall’s expression softened slightly. “You’ve discussed the matter with them, yes?”

“Well –”

“Might I suggest you give Potter, Granger and Weasley a chance before you presume their feelings towards you? They might just surprise you. Miss Granger, especially, seems to enjoy your company and I’m quite sure they aren’t about to throw away a friendship on account of your parentage,” said Professor McGonagall.

“This isn’t merely a case of my parents having been death-eaters or average criminals!” I argued. “My father killed Potter’s parents in cold blood! He tried to kill Potter for Merlin’s sake! And my mother –” my voice broke slightly on the word. “Longbottom can’t even look at me.”

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips. “Wait here.”

Abruptly, she stood and left the office leaving me frozen in place. What was she going to do? Where was she going? Had I done something wrong? Was I in trouble? Was she getting Professor Dumbledore? What did I do wrong?

I set the tea aside. Looking at it made me feel sick and the smell wasn’t helping. I pushed it further away from me until its sickly scent was too faint to bother me.

What did I do wrong?

Thankfully, Professor McGonagall didn’t leave me to worry for too long. Behind were the last three people I wanted to see. Hermione, Potter and Weasley filed in. Hermione looked relieved when she saw me. Potter was a mix of concern and embarrassment. Weasley looked like he didn’t know what to feel and so had settled for confusion.

All three sat when Professor McGonagall motioned for them to do so and looked up at her expectantly. I refused to look at anyone and instead had settled for watching the fire as it burnt away the wood. Professor McGonagall wanted the four of us to talk about what had happened that morning. Anger bubbled up inside. What was the point in talking? It wouldn’t change anything. I had learnt that lesson the hard way. Hermione, Potter and Weasley weren’t the first friends I’d lost because of my parents.

After having said her piece Professor McGonagall left the office via a second door which I guessed led to her private quarters. We sat in a silence I was determined not to break.

“Sage,” said Potter.

“I don’t care,” I snapped. “I don’t give two knuts what you think of me so don’t waste your breath because I can assure you I’ve heard it all before.”

“Does that mean you don’t want to be friends anymore?” said Granger, quietly.

I said nothing.

“Look, Sage, I don’t care if your dad is Voldemort. You helped us to fight a mountain troll and that’s good enough for me. Besides, just because your dad was a dark wizard doesn’t mean you will go the same way, right?” Potter’s voice was determined.

“You should hate me,” I mumbled.

“Why? Because your dad murdered my parents? I mean, yeah, sure, that’s a lot to take in, but I don’t care, because you’re you, not him.”

“You-know-who hated Muggle-Borns, right?” asked Hermione.

I nodded, wondering where she was going and not liking the only option I saw.

“Well that proves it then, you couldn’t be more different from him since you’re my friend despite me being a Muggle-Born. So, I couldn’t care less about who your dad is.”

That wasn’t what I had expected her to say.

“See?” said Potter. “You’re you and we don’t care who your dad is and we’re still friends. Right, Ron?”

Weasley watched me, distrust having overshadowed his earlier confusion. “Well, you did help us take down that mountain troll on Halloween.” He chewed his lip. “But you still lied to us.”

“Yes, I did,” I said. “I didn’t want you to know and had Caleb not interfered I never would have told you.”

“But why, Sage?” asked Hermione.

“Firstly, my parents are none of your business and secondly, because-” _I like you and don’t want to lose you_. I paused, unsure if I wanted to tell them my second reason. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Sage –”

I glared at Potter. “I didn’t tell you because there was no reason for you to know. My father is dead and therefore irrelevant.”

No-one seemed to know what to say. Unsurprisingly, it was Hermione who spoke up first.

“That’s what we were trying to tell you. It doesn’t matter who your parents are, we’re still your friends regardless.”

Potter nodded his agreement enthusiastically. He was nearly as desperate as Hermione for friends. Weasley also nodded, still somewhat unsure. He was friends with Potter, and had seemingly decided that if being friends with me was the price he had to pay to remain so, then he was willing to pay it.

“People will tell you that you’re wrong to be my friend,” I argued weakly.

Potter shrugged. “Malfoy told me not to be friends with Ron and ignoring him was the best choice I’ve ever made. They can tell me what they want. Doesn’t mean I have to listen.”

I watch the fire a little longer. I couldn’t believe what they were saying. I couldn’t believe that their friendliness would last. “If you ever change your mind –”

“Sage!”

“No, Hermione, listen. If you ever change your minds, then that’s ok. Just… tell me first. Please?”

All three nodded.

“So, can we go get lunch now, or do we have to wait for Professor McGongall?” asked Weasley.

Potter laughed.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

I smiled slightly, determined to enjoy their friendship while it lasted.

 

The Gryffindor common room seemed louder than normal that evening. Everyone was talking about Quidditch. Everyone except us, at least.

Hermione was checking the boys’ charms homework while I read through and cross referenced her notes from Potions. It was just my luck that I had missed the Forgetfulness Potion, a fairly complex potion which Snape had hinted would be part of our final exam. I would have been finished sooner had Potter not been so distracting. Every few seconds he shifted in his seat or huffed a sigh or glanced at the clock.

I glared at him.

“What?”

“Whatever it is you’re thinking of doing, just go do it so I can get my work done in peace,” I told him.

Potter chewed his lip before standing so abruptly he nearly knocked my ink pot over.

“I’m going to get my book back from Snape,” he announced.

“Rather you than me, mate,” said Weasley. Hermione nodded her head in agreement.

“Good riddance,” I muttered louder than I had meant to judging by the look Potter gave me as he left.

The three of us sat in awkward silence. It was then that I realised something, without Potter around, Weasley didn’t actually have any friends. I smirked, but didn’t voice my realisation; Hermione would tell me off saying I was being mean.

“So, Black,” said Weasley.

“Hmm?”

“The chocolate pudding at dinner was pretty good, yeah?” No friends and a coward, no wonder Uncle Lucius warned me away from the Weasleys.

“I didn’t have any.”

“Oh. Right.”

I wrote a few more words.

“Um, Black?”

“What?”

“So, um, you know you-know-who, did you, well you know, actually meet him? Like, as in, face to face?”

I gritted my teeth. I didn’t want to discuss my parents and it was stupid, idiotic questions like this that fuelled my determination to not tell anyone. When I didn’t answer, Hermione quietly scolded Weasley, thinking I couldn’t hear. I mean, honestly, I was sat right next to her.

“Yes, I met him a few times,” I said. “I don’t remember him, of course, but I did meet him.”

“Oh.”

Peace.

“What was he like?”

“He made flower chains and liked to dress in pink, frilly robes! What do you _think_ he was like?” I hissed.

At least Weasley had the brains to look embarrassed. “No need to be rude about it!”

“You got question six wrong,” Hermione said, quietly.

“But that’s the second time I’ve tried to answer it!” Moaned Weasley. “Please just tell me the answer.”

Hermione stuck her nose in the air. “Not a chance, how will you learn if I just give you all the answers?”

“Oh, go on, please?”

“Levina Monkstanley in 1772,” I said.

Hermione crossed her arms in a huff while Weasley just stared at me.

“What?”

“The Wand Lighting spell was created by Levina Monkstanley in 1772 after she couldn’t find her quill. That’s the answer to question six,” I explained.

Weasley blinked stupidly a couple of times before muttering his thanks.

Thankfully, Potter returned not long after to save us from our awkwardness.

Weasley perked up instantly, “Did you get it? What’s the matter?”

Potter looked terrible. His eyes were wide and spots of red coloured his cheeks from running, contrasting, almost painfully, against his pale, panicked complexion.

“I overheard Snape and Filch talking,” Potter explained. “Snape was showing Filch his leg and it was covered in blood and bandages. Then Snape was saying about how hard it was to keep an eye on all three heads at once before he saw me and yelled at me to get out. You know what this means? He tried to get past that three-headed dog at Halloween! That’s where he was going when we saw him – he’s after whatever it’s guarding! And I’d bet my broomstick _he_ let the troll in to create a diversion!”

By this point, Hermione looked just as panicked as Potter had, who now looked more excited than worried himself.

“No – he wouldn’t. I know he’s not very nice, but he wouldn’t try and steal something Dumbledore was trying to keep safe.”

“Honestly, Hermione, you think all the teachers are saints or something. I’m with Harry. I wouldn’t put anything past Snape. But what’s he after? What’s that dog hiding?”

I shook my head slowly. “I agree with Hermione. Snape is horrible but I don’t think he would try to kill his students. I mean, think about it, the troll was released the dungeons. Which house lives in the dungeons? Slytherin. He wouldn’t put his house at risk.”

“Yeah, right!” Argued Weasley. “Snape doesn’t care about anyone. You said it yourself, he’s horrible!”

“Ron! That doesn’t make him a murderer!”

“Who said he was a murderer? No-one died on Halloween. Besides, it’s like Harry said, the troll was just a _distraction_.”

“I still don’t think he would let the troll out,” I insisted.

“But you’re admitting that he tried to get past the dog?” pressed Potter.

I rolled my eyes. “Well, obviously, you heard him admit that. There’s proof. But where is the proof that he freed the troll?”

“Exactly!”

“Snape has it out for everyone. What more proof do you need?”

“Because that will hold out in front of the Wizengamot. ‘May the witness give his testimony detailing what makes this man guilty’. ‘He has it out for everyone and he’s a horrible person’. See the problem, there, Weasley?”

The argument continued. After nearly half an hour, Potter was exhausted and nearly asleep in his chair. Hermione had gone mostly quiet, only speaking up to agree with me or when she could get a word in. Weasley and I were nearly at each other’s throats as we argued over Snape’s innocence.

We only stopped when Potter announced he was going to bed. Hermione was quick to say we were doing the same. I glared at her but didn’t argue. She was probably right. It wasn’t until we got to our dorm that I learnt the real reason Hermione had gone silent downstairs. Without realising, Weasley and I had started talking about the Wizengamot and the Ministry of Magic and Azkaban. All words she didn’t really understand. Her questions were endless. But, like any good friend, I answered a fair few before telling her to be quiet and go to sleep.

 


	16. 2,184 Days Remaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, massive apologies for the lack of updates over the last two weeks. I've been busy finishing essays and the like for uni but on the bright side I'm finally done for the year so (hopefully) no more missed updates. Thanks again to everyone who is following/ reading/ enjoying this story. The next update will be on WEDNESDAY of next week. So sit back and enjoy!

Professor McGonagall found me at breakfast to tell me about my detention. I'd expected it, to be honest. What I hadn't expected was that it would be with Professor Sprout the same morning, meaning I would miss the first Quidditch match of the year. I would be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed. Quidditch, in my opinion, wasn't as good as most people (Potter, Weasley and Draco) made it out to be, but there was nothing quite like the thrill of watching a match in the cold, with the wind biting your nose and a thick scarf wrapped around your neck. Having detention outside in the greenhouses wasn't an appealing alternative.

I said goodbye to Hermione and wished Potter good luck before leaving for Greenhouse 4. The Quidditch match wasn't due to start until quarter past eleven, meaning that, as long as I was quick, I would have time to watch most of the match. The only problem was that I kept thinking about the room I'd hidden in the day before and, more specifically, the books I'd found there.

I wanted those books. Badly.

That meant I would have to return to the room, before Professor McGonagall thought to tell Filch, who would have it cleared out in a heartbeat, and steal the books. I could do that. I would just have to be quick.

Professor Sprout was already in Greenhouse Four, whistling an unfamiliar tune, when I arrived. She greeted me in her usual friendly way before explaining to me what she needed me to do. The fourth years were due to plant Bubotubers the next week, but before that the soil needed sorting and prepping into trays, with the seeds counted and grouped alongside them. I was mostly left to it as Professor Sprout had work to do in one of the other greenhouses. She checked on me a few times and gave me some advice when she saw I was struggling. Overall, as far as detentions went, it wasn't too bad. The worst part was leaving and I realised just how much mud and dust and leaves had stuck to my robes.

I added taking a shower to my list of things to do before going down to the Quidditch pitch, but not before I got those books.

I wasn't sure what it was about the books that interested me so much, only that they did and that I wanted them. The classroom looked the same as it had the previous day. The window still banged against the wall in an irregular beat as it was battered by the wind. The abandoned furniture was still covered in thick layers of dust that had only been broken by the small disturbances I'd made. Most importantly were the books, which were still scattered on the floor and desk where I'd knocked them over. I gathered them quickly and wrapped them in a spare scarf I'd brought with me before placing them in my bag.

I was just leaving when the mirror caught my eye again. Like yesterday, some of the fabric had been blown up, revealing the glass beneath. Something had moved in that mirror the day before and then, for some reason, Professor McGonagall had prevented me from seeing. And she'd seemed almost too insistent that I had only seen a reflection. She was hiding something and it had everything to do with that mirror.

From outside, I heard the sudden uproar of a crowd. The Quidditch match was about to begin. A strong wind rushed through the window and swept up part of the cloth. I froze. There were at least three pairs of legs in the mirror. My heart was beating so loudly I could hear it in my ears. Every one of my senses were on high alert. My body was tense and ready to run should the worst be beneath the fabric.

Just do it.

I grabbed a hand full of fabric.

Just do it!

I took a deep breath and tightened my grip.

JUST DO IT!

The fabric pulled away.

I picked up my bag and left.

During my shower, I couldn't get the picture out of my head. I regretted looking into the mirror.

It had shown me my parents, stood with me and my brothers. But it wasn't them. I'd seen pictures of my parents before and in all of them they held themselves with an almost cruel self-importance. If they smiled it would be a horrible twist of their lips and an arrogant tilt of the chin. In the pictures, they looked at everyone with disgust. My father especially. My mother always had a mad look to her, as if she was just waiting to jump out of the picture and inflict harm. She looked even worse the few times I had seen her in person. She would laugh like a madwoman and throw insults and her mood would change quicker than I could keep up with.

But that wasn't who I saw in the mirror. Their faces were the same. The same hair and eyes and facial features. But they just looked _wrong_. In the few seconds I had seen them for in the mirror, my father had looked at my mother. His eyes were soft and a gentle smile played on his lips. He loved her. He had one hand resting on Caleb's shoulder and the other on mine, as if he loved us too. My mother, the woman who had abandoned her children, had her hand wrapped around my eldest brother's forearm, her thumb rubbing gentle, soothing circles, whilst her opposite arm was wound around my father's waist. And then, she had leant down and pressed a brief kiss to the top of my head, like she loved me.

That wasn't true.

My mother didn't love me. Not enough to stay at least. Or if she did, then she loved my father more.

I turned the water off. I didn't want to think about that. I had come to terms with the fact that my parents were not good people a long time ago, and that, even if they were around, they would likely have little affection for me. I knew that. So why did the mirror make me feel so… off?

I didn't feel angry. I didn't feel upset. It was as if something had settled in the bottom of my stomach and was now refusing to move. It felt heavy and uncomfortable. It made me want to hide under my duvet and forget about the world.

I swallowed and looked in the mirror, straightening my Gryffindor scarf. I had a Quidditch match to attend.

Even before reaching the pitch, I could hear the cheering. Students were chanting, and the final result was being announced. Gryffindor had won; one hundred and seventy points to Slytherin's sixty. I grinned as I jogged closer. Potter had done it, then. He had caught his first snitch in his first Quidditch game. I hated to admit it, but I was impressed.

"Finnigan! Thomas" I shouted as I approached the crowd of first years. "Where's Potter, Weasley and Hermione?"

Finnigan eyed me, distrustfully, but Thomas, who had always been civil towards me answered. "They just left. Harry fell off his broom at the end, I think he was a little shook up."

"Any idea where they went?" I asked. They couldn't have gone back to the castle, I would have met them.

"They left with that really tall bloke. Don't know what his name was, though."

Hagrid. I thanked them and walked away, tapping a finger on my leg as I decided what to do. I'd never met Hagrid, but I knew where he lived and if they had left with him then that's where they would have gone. I decided to try my luck. Even if Weasley wouldn't, Potter and Hermione would ask Hagrid to let me stay. With that knowledge, I made my way towards the hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Hagrid's hut was nothing impressive. A small wooden shack-like building with moss growing up the walls and dirty windows. Outside was a small garden with various vegetables, all of them over-sized and over-ripe. I climbed up the step leading to the door and knocked, pulling my scarf tighter around my neck.

The door was opened to a large man. My jaw hung open. I had seen Hagrid before around the grounds and knew he was a tall man, but nothing could have prepared me for the sheer, terrifying size of him. He was three times my height and four times my width, with a scraggly, dark beard and hair with small black eyes that glinted in the sun. He looked down at me and blinked in surprise.

"Well, er, hello there," he said. "Can I help yer?"

"I'm a friend of Potter and Hermione's. Someone said they were here?"

Hagid's face instantly lit up. "O' course, yer must be Sage. Harry's told me about you. Come in. Would yer like a cup o' tea?"

I politely refused and followed him into the house where Potter, Weasley and Hermione were sat on over-sized chairs around an equally over-sized table. Potter was covered in mud and clutching a large cup. He gave me a forced smile when he saw me.

"For someone who just won their first Quidditch match, you look terrible," I commented. "The Slytherin's weren't that rough, were they?"

"Someone tried to kill Harry," said Weasley.

"What? Explain," I demanded.

"His broom started acting up, trying to shake him off."

I turned to Potter. "Are you sure you didn't just lose control of the broom?" I asked bluntly. "It's easy enough to do, especially with a broom as new and powerful as a Nimbus 2000."

Potter shook his head. "No, it was different. It was like it was trying to buck me off."

"It was Snape," announced Weasley. "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"Rubbish," said Hagrid, as he brought a massive teapot over. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

We shared a look. I shook my head. The three-headed dog had nothing to do with Hagrid.

Potter told him.

_CLANG_

The teapot dropped to the ground.

"How do you know about Fluffy?"

"Fluffy?" we demanded.

"Yeah – he's mine – bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub las' year – I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the –"

"Yes?" pressed Harry.

"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid. He bent down to pick up the teapot, hiding his face. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it!" said Weasley.

"Rubbish! Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione.

I was shocked. What happened to Hermione respect-one's-Professors-as-they-can-do-no-wrong Granger?

"I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

"Do you have any idea how much magic it would take to jinx a broomstick?" I said. "It takes a lot. Not to mention that casting one from that distance and with that accuracy is so difficult it borders on impossible. If Snape were a Defence Against the Dark Arts or Charms teacher, then I would believe it, but he's not!"

Hagrid shook his head, before speaking sternly. "I don't know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn' try an' kill a student! Now, listen to me all four of yeh – yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's gaurdin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicholas Flamel –"

"Aha!" said Harry, triumphantly. "So, there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid spluttered. "No – yeh need to forget I said that."

"Who is he?" asked Weasley.

"Think it's time the four of yeh went to lunch," said Hagrid. "Harry, yeh need a shower."

"But Hagrid –"

"Think I heard some o' the Professors sayin' there would be lamb today. Wouldn' want to miss that."

"I think I know that name," I said, quietly.

Hagrid went pale. "Go on, you lot. I'll see yer around."

No matter what we said after that, Hagrid remained stubbornly quiet on the subjects of Fluffy, Snape and Nicolas Flamel, quickly herding us out of his hut.

That didn't mean we forgot about it though. At lunch, we sat at the end of Gryffindor table, away from everyone else, discussing the match. No matter what Hagrid had said, we were convinced that something had happened to Potter's broom, we just weren't sure what and who was to blame.


	17. 2,183 Days Remaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, a short update today so I will be uploading again on FRIDAY. Sit back, and enjoy!

"Maybe he's an old Hogwarts Professor?"

Hermione was obsessed.

"I'll ask Madam Pince if there are any old records that could tell us."

She'd forced me to the library and tried to get me to help her look.

"Maybe that's how you recognised the name? Maybe he used to teach here?"

She left before I could reply. I _did_ recognise the name. I just didn't know why.


	18. 2,180 Days Remaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I very nearly forgot to post this today - blame the travelling I've just done to get home - but here it is. It's not overly long again, but I loved writing it. Honestly, I think I just love writing scenes between Sage and Caleb. I would love to hear what some of you guys think, so leave a review. But before you do that, sit back, and enjoy!

"Has Uncle Lucius ever mentioned a Mr Flamel?"

Caleb leant against the wall. His friends were long gone. "Not that I know of." He looked at me, suspiciously. "Why? Who is he?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know why you want to know or you don't know who he is?"

"Well I wouldn't be asking you if I know who he is, would I?"

Caleb shrugged. "You've asked stranger questions."

"Like?" I demanded.

Caleb grinned, crookedly. "Like; 'can I learn to walk on the ceiling like spiders?' 'Why does it never rain _real_ cats and dogs?' 'why can't people go to the moon?' 'How do –"

"At least I didn't need to sleep with a light on until I was ten."

"Says the girl who is too scared to sleep alone during a thunder storm."

"You're the one who fell into a puddle of mud and cried about it."

"You fell out a tree. Six times. In less than an hour."

"I can beat you in chess."

"I'm a faster runner."

"My grades are better."

Caleb's grin dropped off his face. "No, they're not."

"They are according to Professor Babbling."

His eyes narrowed. Why was he so mad about this? A nasty glint flickered in his eyes. "At least I'm not scared of having a bath."

Anger roared in my veins. "At least I didn't push someone onto thin ice," I said coldly.

Caleb waved me off. "Not my fault the adults didn't reinforce the ice properly."

I rolled my eyes. This was an old argument, one I couldn't be bothered to have again.

"So how is Slytherin taking it's Quidditch defeat?" I asked sweetly.

Caleb laughed. "By training even harder so we can knock you lions out of the sky next time."


	19. 2,174 Days Remaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I am so sorry for yet another late update - I'm getting really bad for that aren't I? - but I do have good news! This story is now completely written which means I am now only editing and uploading! It also means that I hope to update more often than once a week, so from now on I'm aiming to update every MONDAY, WEDNESDAY and FRIDAY, otherwise this story would just take waaay too long to upload. Anyway, enough rambling from me. Sit back, and enjoy! :)

I was in detention again. This time with Quirrell. I had finally lost my temper in his lesson and told him just how useless I thought he was. Hence, why I was faced with two hours of sorting through shelf after shelf of Defence Against the Dark Arts textbooks and reference books. Some were covered in so many layers of dust that I wondered if Quirrell even knew he had them. Others were so old that their titles had long since faded.

It was while sorting through a pile of these books that I saw it. On the inside cover was an odd set of Runes written in ink. I flicked through the rest of the book, in a frantic search for more. There weren't any.

"What do these mean?" I asked, sharply. I turned on my heels to look at Quirrell.

The man dropped his quill at the sudden break in silence. "W-w-what?"

"The runes that are written in this book, do you know what they mean?" I walked up and placed the book open in front of him.

He looked down at the book, his eyes briefly flicking up to see me before settling back on the book. "T-these runes are e-e-extremely old. N-no-one can tr-translate them."

"Well someone could," I said. "This book was published in 1909, which means that less than one hundred years ago, someone was at least beginning to translate them."

Quirrell straightened suddenly. "I think we're done here, Miss Black."

My stomach twisted.

"Yes, Professor."

I didn't argue and left as quickly as I could. My stomach was still in knots when I got back to Gryffindor tower.

Professor Quirinus Quirrell was known for being a nervous man who couldn't get through a single sentence without stuttering, who jumped at the slightest of sounds, who would back down from any fight. So why, when he had asked me to leave, did he look me in the eye? And what happened to his stutter?


	20. 2,168 Days Remaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I am so sorry that it has been so long since I last updated. I've been away for the last month without wifi which made it impossible for me to upload! Again, so sorry! Hopefully, from now on I will be able to update regularly again and in order to help me catch up with my fanfiction.net uploads I will be posting daily chapters for the next few days, meaning the next update will be TUESDAY. With that said, sit back and enjoy!

It was raining again.

Having always lived in Wiltshire, I was used to rain. But it definitely rained more in Scotland. When we’d shared this sentiment with Professor Sprout a few days previously she’d laughed and told us to wait until the snow comes. I was thankful that in less than a month I would be back in Wiltshire where the weather wouldn’t be quite so terrible.

The rain didn’t fuss Hermione as it gave her a good excuse to spend even more time in the library than usual. Surprisingly, Potter and Weasley encouraged her. They were just eager to learn who Nicolas Flamel was.

“Can’t you just write to your Uncle and ask?” Weasley begged me for the fifth time that hour. I had long since given up searching through books and instead was trying to finish my History of Magic essay due for the next day.

“I’ve already told you, I’ll ask when I go home for the Winter Break.”

“But-”

“I swear to Merlin, Weasley, if you ask me one more time I _will_ jinx you.”

“Honestly, Sage, thought I’d taught you better than that. Violence solves nothing,” said a voice behind me.

“I thought you said that violence solves everything unless an adult is present or has means to learn of your actions,” I replied, smoothly.

Celia laughed. “That was Caleb, I’m sure.”

“You never disagreed.”

“I never agreed, though, either.” Celia looked at us curiously. “What are you all doing in the library on a Sunday afternoon, anyway? I can’t believe you’re that dedicated to homework?”

Weasley was half way through the worst lie I had ever heard when Potter met my eye. I shrugged and indicated my head to Celia. He chewed his lip for a second before nodding.

“Have you ever heard of Nicolas Flamel?” I said, ignoring Weasley’s glare.

“Not you too!” said Celia, shaking her head.

 Oh no.

“What do you mean?” Potter demanded.

Celia looked taken aback by Potter’s outburst but quickly collected herself. “Caleb was asking about a Mr Flamel a few days ago. He asked if I knew him or had any connections to him.”

“Do you?”

“Caleb Black?”

Weasley and I spoke at the same time.

Celia shook her head. “I recognise the name but –”

“Can’t quite place it?”

“Sorry, Sage.”

“Forget that. Why is Caleb Black asking about Nicolas Flamel?” Weasley was looking from me to Celia, accusingly.

“I thought he might recognise the name so I asked him.”

“Why the bloody hell would you do that? We’re meant to be doing this as a team! You can’t just run off and do that type of thing!”

I snorted. “Because we were doing such a wonderful job of finding out who he is. I took the initiative, Weasley, something you sorely lack!”

“You just think you’re so much better than everyone! That’s why you did it, to prove that you were better than us!”

“That’s not fair,” said Celia, in an attempt to soothe our fight.

“Guys, stop!” Hermione hissed as she ran up to our table. “Madam Pince is on her way over! You’re being too loud!”

Madam Pince was a stern looking woman, who, when in a foul mood, which was seemingly always, could be very frightening. Over the months, Hermione and I had avoided her wrath, having only watched in amusement as she chased out other students for being too loud, eating, and for ‘disrespecting the precious books’. Being faced with an angry Madam Pince was a lot more frightening than I had expected.

“What do you think you are doing over here?” She demanded. Her voice was barely above a whisper but laced with enough ice that all five of us were left shrinking in our seats. “This is a library. You do _not_ shout at each other in here. Am I understood?”

“Yes, Madam Pince.”

“Might I suggest you find another place to _study_ for the rest of today and I will be informing your Heads of Houses of this incident.”

“Yes, Madam Pince.”

We gathered our books and bags under her stern eye before doing the walk of shame out the library’s double doors.

We were only a few steps down the corridor when Celia turned in me. “Thanks for that, Sage.”

“You think this is my fault?” I demanded.

“I think the fact that you don’t know when to keep an argument private is an absolute embarrassment.” Celia pursed her lips. “Madam Pomfrey is letting me help in the Hospital Wing, but I _need_ the library if I want her to let me stay. Do you have any idea how much begging I’m going to have to do for Madam Pince to let me back in before Christmas?”

A ripple of guilt washed through me, but my anger was stronger. “It isn’t _my_ fault that Weasley decided to start an argument in the middle of the library and you didn’t have to get involved, so the fact that you’re in trouble is your own fault.”

“You could have ended it, Sage,” Celia said. “And don’t you dare blame me after I tried to get you out of trouble. This situation is because you and Weasley can’t put your differences aside. You want someone to get mad at? Maybe you should look in the mirror.”

With that, Celia turned on her heel and marched down the corridor. Out of everyone I knew, Celia was the most difficult to anger and yet, somehow, I’d managed it. You wouldn’t really know if you didn’t know her. She wasn’t like me. When I was angry I broke things, I screamed and shouted and lashed out. She wasn’t like Caleb, either, who would give everyone a stony silence and snap at anyone who dared to talk to him. Celia just left when she was angry. If I were to have followed her, she would have spoken to me. Not yelled or ignored me. No-one else would know that she was mad. ‘No-one else needs to,’ she had said to me once. I could have followed her and apologised and everything would have been forgiven and forgotten. I could have. But I didn’t. I was too angry.

What I did do was get into another argument with Weasley. We were blaming each other and then we were insulting each other and then his wand was in his hand and my wand was in my hand and Filch was dragging us up to Professor McGonagall’s office by the back of our robe collars.

We were still throwing glares at one another when Professor McGonagall entered her office. Unlike the last time I was there, no tea was offered and we weren’t invited to take a seat. Instead she sat behind her desk and looked up at us, above her glasses, as Weasley and I stood in silence. I meet Professor McGonagall’s angry stare head on, unlike Weasley I wouldn’t show weakness by looking at the ground or shuffling my feet. I was raised to have more pride than that.

“I do not expect all of my students to always get along perfectly,” said Professor McGonagall. “I do, however, expect you to be civil towards each other. Never have I received so many complaints about two students and their arguing. Professors Sprout, Babbling and Snape have all spoken to me about your arguments and then today I receive an owl from Madam Pince telling me that she had to ask you both to leave the library for being disruptive. I was willing to let that slide without punishment until Mr Filch finds me and informs me that he found you in the corridor, wands out, screaming at one another. Such behaviour is unacceptable and I will not tolerate it anymore. You will both serve detention with Mr Filch this evening and every evening until the end of next week. And if I receive any further complaints concerning you two, it will be every evening until the end of term. I shall also be writing to both your parents informing them of this. Am I understood?”

Weasley paled. “Our parents?” He squeaked.

“I didn’t ask for your comments Mr Weasley, I asked if you understood.”

Weasley swallowed before nodding. “I understand, Professor.”

I stayed quiet.

“Miss Black?” prompted Professor McGonagall.

“I understand,” I said through gritted teeth.

She looked between us, her lips still pursed, before nodding. “Mr Filch will be expecting you both at half four in the boathouse. You are dismissed.”

 

Neither of my first two detentions had been particularly pleasant, but detention with Filch made them seem like a holiday in comparison. Filch set us the task of scrubbing clean the boats which had been left tied to the dock. Why we had to do it was beyond me. They were filthy and obviously hadn’t been cleaned for years. It was a useless task set to us for no reason than to punish and that just annoyed me further. At least my first two detentions had a purpose. Professor Sprout needed help preparing for a class, Quirrell needed his books organising. After Weasley and I had cleaned the boats they would be left to sit and rot and get dirty once more until someone decided to punish yet another misbehaving student.

 


	21. 2,167 Days Remaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, only a short chapter today but hope you like it regardless. Next chapter on WEDNESDAY. Until then, sit back and enjoy!

On Monday, Weasley and I were once again in the boathouse cleaning the boats. We had completed one each the day before and still had six left between us. My hands still ached from the day before and it wasn’t long before my fingers were covered in sore blisters. I kept going though without complaint. If Weasley wasn’t going to complain then nor would I.


	22. 2,166 Days Remaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, sorry for another short chapter today but I promise they will be getting longer soon. Next chapter will be uploaded on THURSDAY, so keep an eye out for that but for now, sit back and enjoy!

Tuesday's detention went much the same as the last two evenings. Weasley and I worked in silence with Filch watching over us, lecturing us on how disrespectful we were and how under previous headmasters our behaviour wouldn't have been an issue as we would have long since had it beaten out of us. I tuned him out easily, ignoring him completely. It wasn't until he kicked my bucket over, spilling dirty water over my nearly clean boat that I paid him any attention.

He grinned, wickedly. "That will teach you to ignore your betters, missy."

I fought the urge to yell back at him. Instead I just apologised and refilled the bucket using the tap. All the way I was forced to listen to Filch as he hissed insults at me, calling me lazy and rude and ignorant and a horrible little girl. I briefly caught Weasley's eye as I settled back in front of my boat, he gave me a sympathetic smile and a small nod of encouragement.


	23. 2,165 Days Remaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, sorry there wasn't an update yesterday, packing to get from Uni to parents took a little longer than I expected. Anyway, next chapter SATURDAY so sit back and enjoy!

By Wednesday I just wanted the week to be over. Letters arrived that morning for Weasley and I from home scolding us. Uncle Lucius’ letter had been an unpleasant lecture on how to behave and how I was disrespecting our family and that it was my duty to act respectfully and decently lest I should embarrass our family. He also promised a severe lecture and scolding upon my return to Malfoy Manor to ensure I ‘will never again embarrass my noble pureblood name’.

The detention didn’t go much better. Filch was getting worse, his lectures harsher and his descriptions of how the previous headmasters would have beaten us more graphic. For the most part I ignored him, only paying enough attention to reply should he direct a question or comment at me. When six finally rolled round, Weasley looked green. I took pity on him.

“Do you have any peppermints?” I asked.

Weasley looked confused. “Why would I have peppermints?”

“They soothe the stomach when you feel nauseas.” From my robes, I took a small bag of peppermints I always carried with me. “Here.” I offered him the bag.

He took one cautiously, acting like I might pull the bag away from him as a cruel trick. “Thanks,” he muttered.

We walked the rest of the way to the Entrance Hall in silence before going our separate ways. I didn’t particularly want dinner, but skipping a meal wasn’t an option. Swallowing the last of my peppermint I braved the Great Hall.

 


End file.
